


The West Wing

by urisarang



Series: The Omega Prince [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it starts dark sorry, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, For real this story is about kiddos and we aint writing that, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, No Sex, No shipping, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ozai's A+ Parenting, POV Alternating, So some of these tags are for the whole series not just this work sorry, but no sex, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang
Summary: "Lu ten is dead and Iroh has abdicated in mourning."Everything Ozai had wanted since he was old enough towanthanded on a silver platter and all without any scheming.  A cruel smile twisted his lips, but the next news Azulon had to give wiped the smile right off his face."Yoursonhas presented.  Does it fill your breast with pride to know you have done something no one in the history of the fire nation has been able to?"  Azulon rose to his feet and slowly stepped closer to the edge of the dais towering over Ozai.  Though his father was well onto his years by this point, the will of fire that burned in his eyes had not yet dimmed.  He was every bit the fearsome Fire Lord as he had always been."Congratulations Ozai, on youromegason."((An A/B/O Story with no sex and no pairings.  Yes, you read that right.))
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), zuko & palace staff
Series: The Omega Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842214
Comments: 87
Kudos: 366





	1. Prologue Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Ever read a A/B/O story and think, "Wow that's great but I could do with less sex. In fact how about no sex! While we are at it how about we throw out pairings too?" 
> 
> No? Just me? Well that's okay. Not that I don't like those kinds of stories but the thought got lodged in my head about Zuko being an Omega, but I didn't want to write another "Weak-at-first Omega fights the patriarchy with the help of his surprisingly good and kind Alpha" (I do love the trope I won't lie)
> 
> Nah man, Zuko ain't about that. He is a strong independent Omega who don't need no Alpha. 
> 
> This is **his** story.

# ~~The West Wing~~

# Prologue Part One

Ever since Zuko was old enough to walk unaided he was taught the history of his great nation, and the role his family has played in spreading its greatness to the world. Little Zuko would sit on his father's knee and listen to the deep baritone of his voice as he told tales of the Great Fire Lord Sozin and his plan for their people. His father would brush his hand along Zuko's cheek as he spoke of their family's great destiny, a destiny that Zuko would help come to pass. 

His father had seen it in a vision on the night his son was born. His son was born in the dead of winter at the darkest hour of night, an ill omen for a common birth let alone a royal one. When the vision had overtaken Ozai he fully expected to see his son in an early grave, instead Ozai was part of a crowd of thousands who cheered and called out to the palace above. Ozai turned his head, looking up at the right profile of an older man. He had the first hints of grey streaking his hair but the features were familiar.

No, not just familiar, that was his face he was starting up at, but lined with age. Ozai watched as an older version of himself climbed the palace steps dressed in the robes of a Fire Lord with the flame crown glinting in his long hair. The crowd around Ozai cheered and called out celebrating the 50 year anniversary of the comet and their great victory for the world. 

The vision faded and left the new father reeling. He was not even in line for the crown at that point. Iroh was the crown prince and his son Lu Ten had long been groomed to take over when Fire Lord Azulon's flame finally dies out. 

But a spirit vision, a real one, is never wrong and Ozai had no doubts that this was true. A servant rushed to his side informing him that his wife had just given birth to a baby boy which would mean the vision took him just as his son had come into this world. This was no false vision, he was sure of it. He pushed thoughts of it out of his head for the moment, his wife and son had need of him now but he vowed to think about it more in time.

As the months and years went by he became obsessed with his vision. Spirit visions were never wrong, but they were also not always what they seemed at first. Great men have thrown their lives away chasing after a vision only to find it wasn't quite what it seemed to be when it finally came to pass. Ozai would not make that mistake, he went over each detail and planned and schemed and planned some more. He always had a keen mind for planning things out to the finest detail, meticulous to a fault.

Ozai had always desired the crown, while Iroh never did-- but he was not the first born so he had grown up knowing it was something that would always be beyond his reach. Perhaps if his brother had never had Lu Ten he could have been convinced to abdicate, but Lu Ten was born and from early on it was plain for all to see what a great ruler he would someday become. Ozai had tried, and mostly succeeded at pushing his jealousy down where none could give witness to it, but it curled like a poison inside him all the same.

Then his son was born and with his first breath gave new life to Ozai's ever simmering desire for the throne. His son was the key to making his destiny happen, he had to be but Ozai could not yet see how. Perhaps his son would be a prodigy of fire bending the likes of which could sway Azulon's favor to Ozai's line he thought at first, but as the boy grew older and older without even a hint of flame despite Ozai giving him the best tutors and taking a personal hand in his son's training Ozai began to doubt.

Three years after his son was born his wife had given birth to a girl. Born at noon during the height of summer, a sign of great fortune in the fire nation. A week after that the curtains in his daughter's room caught fire, a rare blue fire not seen in centuries of bending.

A prodigy born under a lucky sign. 

So why was it that Ozai had the vision when Zuko was born instead of Azula? Perhaps that was the trick the spirits were trying to play. He had been led to believe Zuko would be the driving force behind the changing of fate, but even being compared to a new born he was lacking.

As his children grew the differences between them could not be more obvious, Azula was strong and proud whereas his son was soft and insecure. Never let it be said that Ozai was not a fair man, though the difference was literally night and day between his children even as he still tried to get his first born to succeed. Azula was 5 and already punching out bursts of blue flame while Zuko was 8 and had barely managed to produce his first flame.

It was a weak, flickering light cupped between his hands as if it were a candle in the wind in danger of going out at any moment. Zuko stared into the flame with awe and wonder before looking up at his father. He held the flame close to his chest like he would a baby turtle duck he's always sneaking off to play with, as if it were precious. He then raised his arms and lifted the flame out for his father like it was a gift.

Neither of them knew it at the time, but that would be the very last time Ozai would look down at his son with love and pride in his heart.

After that day Ozai tripled his son's lessons with his tutors but his son was ever slow to learn and improve. Over time Ozai's own frustrations with his son's lack of improvement led to fiercer lessons that became borderline cruel. Zuko's tutors picked up on it and took it as permission to do it themselves, they weren't wrong. Words that were once encouraging turn degrading, flicks of heat during spars started to leave marks and welts.

They had tried to lead the boy with a gentle hand through the mysteries of the flame and failed, clearly it was time for a firmer hand. Time for the young prince to learn lessons the hard way that would leave marks as reminders to not make the same mistakes. Meanwhile Azula excelled, a true prodigy fitting of their esteemed bloodline. By age 5 her mind was already shaping to be a steel trap, where most children would be day dreaming and playing she was observing and planning.

Azula took great care in laying traps and tricks for her older brother, his wife wanted to put a stop to it but Ozai saw it for what it was. Practice on outmaneuvering and outwitting her enemies, something she would have needed later in life. Besides, he argued, the boy could stand to grow up. If he couldn’t even face his sister what hope would he have at court? His wife's lips twisted in anger but stayed shut, she would not defy him in this even if some days it seemed like all she wanted to do was hide Zuko away from the world. Zuko was her first born, and Ozai understood that no mother, especially not an Omega mother, would want her child to grow up but eventually he would have to.

Ozai didn't know how right he was, or how soon his son would be forced to face the cruel reality of the world beyond his mother's skirt. Barely a month after his eleventh birthday he presented. Early for once in his wretched life. When Ozai was told his son presented early his first reaction was pride, but the look on the servant's face, the refusal to look above his shoes squashed it before he could really even feel it. In the next breath the servant stuttered out that the Fire Lord had demanded a summons for Prince Ozai. Before Ozai could even open his mouth the servant was all but fleeing the room.

What was going on? A fissure of worry grew in his heart as he swept out of the room, his robes flowing behind him in his haste. Servants were whispering in pairs and groups all around as he made his way to the throne room. Whispers silenced as he raced by, pitying looks were sent his way before returning to stare at their feet. Something happened. Something bad, something very, very bad.

The guards to the throne room opened the door for him as he approached, the dark eye holes of their helmets seemed to bore into his soul as they closed the door behind him. The fires in front of the throne blazed wildly and Ozai gave himself one single moment to take a breath before he approached. His father was clearly furious. He must tread carefully.

He bowed low and remained there with his forehead pressed into the carpet waiting for his lord's leave to rise. It didn't come until the wall of fire abated enough for a scroll to be tossed out in front of Ozai. He raised his head and picked up the scroll. His hands did not shake nor did they tremble as he unrolled that fateful scroll. Golden eyes scanned the contents carefully then with more and more speed. He could not believe it! A smile wanted to break out on his lips but he knew he could not let it so he forced his face to remain an expressionless mask.

"Lu ten is dead and Iroh has abdicated in mourning." Azulon's voice was deceptively quiet but it could not hide the undercurrent of sadness and disappointment. His father had never hidden the fact that he favored his first born when they were growing up so it was no surprise to Ozai that his father would be disappointed to have his _lesser_ son become his heir. No surprise, but Ozai would have been lying if he said it didn't still hurt. 

That one sentence was everything Ozai had ever wanted so the small amount of hurt his father's tone left him was quickly soothed. He knew he could not celebrate, though he longed to. He should play the role of a supporting family member, but judging by the knowing look of disgust on his father's face they both knew it would be just that-- an act. Ozai would put on a good show to make sure their family saved face, but they both know Azulon had no choice but to make Ozai his heir regardless.

"You are my last _heir_ ," His father spit out the word like it burned his mouth, "and will be Fire Lord when I die unless the spirits are kind and Iroh overcomes his grief before then to take back his rightful place." Nonononono. That can't be allowed to happen, not when he was so close!

"He was a broken man for years after Fengli's death and that was with Lu Ten there." Ozai dared to speak out, "The great dragon of the west you sent off to war died with his son. You and I both know he will not soon recover from this. If he ever does."

"Silence!" The Fire Lord shouted and the flames licked the ceiling with his anger. "I will not let one who has brought shame to our family speak ill of the dead!"

"What shame have I brought father? I have done nothing but strive for the best--" Azulon silenced him with a flare of fire and heat.

"What have you done?! Your weakness, your poisonous lust for power has tainted our bloodline. The royal bloodline has been filled with strength and purity since ancient times, and somehow you have managed to find a way to poison even that!"

"What are you talking about?" Ozai demanded, angry and confused. Cruel, bitter laughter echoed in the throne room and the fire lowered to just a flicker casting heavy shadows over his father's aging face.

"Didn't you hear? Your _son_ has presented. Does it fill your breast with pride to know you have done something no one in the history of the fire nation has been able to?" Azulon rose to his feet and slowly stepped closer to the edge of the dais towering over Ozai. Though his father was well onto his years by this point, the will of fire that burned in his eyes had not yet dimmed. He was every bit the fearsome Fire Lord as he had always been.

"Congratulations Ozai, on your _omega_ son." 

"That's-- That's impossible!" Ozai cried out insulted at the accusation. An omega born to a royal blood, let alone as a prince? It should not be possible. The royal bloodline since ancient times has been the strongest of alpha lines. All children born in the succession line were alphas. Not even a single beta tainted their great bloodline since the very first Fire Lord. Long have they been blessed by Agni with the strongest of fires burning in each alpha sons' and daughters' chests. 

The entire world, even the savages at the poles respected the divine right alphas had to rule. Bloodlines were always carefully crafted and maintained so that each nation would have only the strongest of alphas in line for succession. Occasionally a beta would be born to a cousin or to a child so far down the line of succession it was never an issue. But such a scandal had never happened within the fire nation, it was one of their greatest points of pride that in all of known history there had never been as much as a single beta polluting their pure bloodline.

Until now.

To have had a beta son would have been bad enough-- but an omega? Even the thought of it feels like treason, like a betrayal to his people. 

"I cannot have an _omega_ prince." Azulon's hard voice cut through Ozai's spiraling thoughts. Azulon's eyes were cold and full of hate. At once he knew what his father, his Fire Lord, asked of him. What would be demanded of him.

To kill one's own son would be a terrible crime, but to suffer even the thought of an omega on the throne was a sin against Agni himself. An affront to nature and the natural order of things. Ozai allowed himself one singular moment to feel bad for himself, for being put in this position before he pushed it down to join the rest of the poison inside. 

"You will take care of this." His father commanded. Ozai bowed his head in acceptance, he had no choice, no decision to make.

"It will be done tonight." Ozai promised receiving a curt nod dismissing him from the throne room. As he walked through the halls back to the west wing where his family would be waiting he passed by more servants. He took his time and carefully observed them, they knew something was wrong, the whole palace would know of the Fire Lord's sour mood, but from they way they looked at him with no small amount of sadness made it clean they only heard the news of Lu Ten, if anyone knew of Zuko the entire palace would be in an uproar.

That must mean only a select few knew about Zuko. The royal doctor would be one, but that station was sworn to secrecy and was of unquestionable loyalty to the royal family. Qing Lei would not breathe a word to anyone and Ozai had no doubt that he was the one to personally inform the Fire Lord and the Fire Lord alone. If there was a servant present when it happened that could be a loose end to take care of but it was unlikely an uneducated servant girl or boy would know the signs of an omega presenting unless they had an older sibling who was one.

No, it is most likely only the doctor and Ozai’s wife who knew. His jaw clenched at the thought of how his wife would react to the royal order. She was always defiant in her own way, never forgave the Fire Lord for forcing her to marry Ozai, though she was never cruel to her husband for it. He was forced into the loveless marriage the same as she was after all, but they never really matched with one another. He knew of the lover she had to leave behind, but he knew where her loyalty lied. At least he did, now he could not be so sure. 

The highest quality omegas were chosen to wed princes to keep the line pure as alpha blood would always dominate over omega. This ancient practice had kept even a single beta from being born to the royal line for over a thousand years. Ursa was no exception, in fact her lineage could be traced back to avatar Roku, the very reason they were matched. 

The fire sages had spoken of a prophecy that the child of Sozin and Roku's blood would change the world. An order had gone out that very night and Ursa was escorted to the palace. She was not happy, but she had done her duty to her country, to her people and produced two heirs for the crown, though they could not be more different.

One the perfect heir, the other an abomination. Maybe it was fate that had given him two children, one perfect and the other flawed. It was almost as if the spirits needed to purge all faults and negative attributes by producing the flawed, false heir first so that the true strength of their combined lineage could be born second. 

Azula was everything Ozai could ever want in an heir, a prodigy, intelligent, refined, and powerful. Not even Lu Ten could have held a flame to the greatness Azula had already shown by her 8th birthday. 

He would kill his son tonight, but with his son's sacrifice he would make way for his sister to achieve the greatness she was clearly always meant for. It was almost perfect, not unlike how Ozai had always known he was the better choice despite being second born he too knew his daughter was worth more. While distasteful in the moment, in the long run it would be better this way. Instead of the poison of jealousy tearing the family apart over the decades, a few months of mourning would be the only price.

A price Ozai would gladly pay for the throne.

But as it turned out fate had another plan in store for their family. A plan born out of a desperation only a mother could know was hatched that night. Only Ursa, Ozai, Qing Lei, and Azulon knew the truth about Zuko, not even Zuko had realized it yet. Ursa cried and begged her husband, going on to tell him of secret herbs meant for healing that leave no trace. She could make it appear if the Fire Lord merely had a heart attack overcome with grief over his grandson and passed away in his sleep. 

It was then that Ozai realized what his vision had really meant over a decade before. Zuko was never meant to be heir, all the signs were there from the very beginning. 

He was to be Ozai’s sacrificial lamb.

Born in the dead of night and in the heart of winter when Agni was most distant from his children. His connection to his inner fire was slow to build and even slower to grow, it was a wonder Ozai didn’t realize his son was an omega sooner. All the signs were there, but he was blinded by his misinterpretation of the vision granted to him at Zuko’s birth.

Even if he were a non-bender born to a lesser noble the circumstances of his birth alone would have given pause, but to be _that_ and born of the blood of Fire Lords and Avatars? It had to mean something, Ozai was sure of it. 

One strong child and the other weak. It wasn’t until he had his wife begging before him that he realized it. Zuko was never meant for him, he was for Ursa. So alike in all of the worst ways, he was born to pull at her heart strings. Zuko was soft and depended upon her, the thought of him dying when she could prevent it was unthinkable.

Ozai had no love for his wife, but even he admired the fact that she was loyal to a fault. She would never betray her family, unless of course she was forced to choose between Zuko and her father in law. 

It wasn’t even a choice in her mind. There was always only Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be dark for a decent part of this prologue, but I swear it'll chill out but this is a _Zuko_ story after all so it ain't gonna start pretty. Also sorry for the timeline being fucky, it'll get better and more linear as it progresses. I'm ass at prologues so them apples.
> 
> This is gonna be a big boy story 100k+ told in 5 parts posted in separate stories. It will follow the cannon of the show but it will be a back drop to Zuko's adventure, partly because cannon will change as choices are made, and partly because I have come to enjoy writing AU's more than Fix-its.
> 
> I have this entire first part written already and the rest the series mapped out and will be updating soon.


	2. Prologue Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I seriously thought no one would be interested in reading this, super glad to be wrong! I mean, I was gonna post it either way but all y'all being interested certainly will help motivate me to work on the 2nd book of this series faster so ummm THANKS! <3

# Prologue Part Two

Zuko was hidden away in the west wing where all but a select few of the palace staff were barred entry under pain of execution. The boy's servants were all sworn to him or his mother, and as such they would not breathe a word to anyone. He had to be kept apart-- for his own good his father told him. He was never told why his mother suddenly left, but his father had made it clear with all the things he wasn’t saying and the disappointed looks that it was his fault. The boy would spend long hours dreaming up all the ways he was bad, a disappointment, or just _wrong_ in some way that would make his Mother leave, but he was too afraid to ever ask.

It must have something to do with why he couldn’t have friends, why he couldn’t go outside of the west wing and his Mother's secluded turtle duck pond. There was something wrong with him, he could see it in the way Qing Lei would look at him during his check ups. They never did tell him what was wrong, why that even on the few times his father or sister visited him they would look down on him. As if he were beneath them even more than he had always been. 

All the people who worked in the west wing seemed to be quiet types who mostly kept to themselves, something Zuko could understand even if he was bored all the time. Sometimes he wondered if whatever was wrong with him was why everyone was quiet around him, maybe they were afraid to catch it if they talked to him or something. The young prince had a habit of sneaking around hiding in the shadows and had overheard the servants talking to each other like normal, so he knew that the long stretches of silence in his presence had to be his fault. 

One day he lost control of his mouth and asked Wan Yu, the head servant of the west wing and former personal servant to his Mother, why everyone was quiet around him. As soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted them, Wan Yu's steady hands stilled as they brushed through his hair. It had been six months since his Mother left, six months since he had seen anything outside of the west wing's walls and it had just got too much for him. The not knowing. Small fists clenched the fabric over his knees at his slip up, he should know better than to ask about things he's not meant to know by now. 

"We are all just sad that it has to be like this is all." She had said in a quiet voice as she returned to brushing his hair back with a comb and her fingers as he sat in front of her. "Grown ups are strange like that, we see something sad or something wrong but keep quiet instead of speaking out if we know there is nothing to be done about it."

"Why can't anything be done? What is so wrong with me that can't be fixed?" Zuko had asked in a quiet voice that shook with the effort of keeping back his tears. Warm hands wrapped around him and pulled him into an embrace, the first hug he had since the night his life changed forever, but it would not be the last, Wan Yu would make sure of it. The warmth of another person holding onto him after so long without was too much for the boy who lost his desperate hold over his tears. Wan Yu made shushing sounds as she lied and told the boy everything would be alright when she knew nothing about this was right. He cried himself to sleep only after she promised, after she swore, to not leave him.

It had broken her heart when Ursa left, but holding onto her dear friend's son as he cried for a mother he would never see again? It shattered what was left.

After that night Wan Yu was able to convince the other servants and two of the guards to show the boy more kindness. The child could not help what he was, nor what family he was born into. Had he been born to a peasant family he would have been a blessing and treasured. Since ancient times it was considered good luck to have a rare omega born into your family. It was a sign that the spirits would bless the family with fortune and prosperity.

At least if you were a commoner.

But he was cursed to be born into a royal family, and not just any royal but this one. Whereas an omega commoner would be showered with gifts and placed on pedestals above their beta and Alpha brothers and sisters. They would not want for suitors as well off families would seek them out for a boost to their social rankings, or if they were of a better lineage high ranking military families and those of royal blood would offer up the omega's weight in gold to the family and town. It had always struck Wan Yu as strange that those very people those who’s stations depended upon their alpha blood, would do such things for an omega for their child to marry but if their own presented as an omega they would be despised and cast out. For some unfathomable reason those in power who all married omegas would spit on one of their own being born as such. As if their nature somehow made those in power look weak just for being related.

It made no sense to Wan Yu or the other servants but so did a lot of things the rich and powerful ruling elite did. The one guard who refused to show the boy any kindness, Zheng, tried to explain it to her once. He was an alpha who came from a long line of alphas, three generations of alphas in fact. As if that were something to brag about to the beta servants. He told her that if his son presented as an omega he'd disown him, a beta would be fine but an omega? His nose had wrinkled up in disgust.

"My whole family have been military men for generations. Alphas and betas alike." He told her, "Try and picture any omega you know in the military. Now try and picture them leading. Can you even imagine a soft-hearted and weak omega trying to command an alpha? You can't, can you? It's just not right.

"It's all well and good if they want to stay home, raise a family--that's what they are there for after all-- but to put them in charge of anything? It's just plain wrong. I know it, he knows it," The Zheng gestures to the younger guard Du Yi who shuffled uncomfortably but didn’t deny it. He turned back and stared into Wan Yu's eyes and pointed at her chest. 

"And deep down? You know it too."

Wan Yu didn't talk to Zheng much after that, none of them did, but the rest of the west wing staff made an effort to talk to the young prince more. Some probably did it out of a sense of guilt, or out of respect of who he was before nature ruined his life. Why they talked to him didn't matter to Wan Yu, she was just glad to see the boy smile a little more often. There wasn't much anyone could do for him, he would live and die in the west wing, not even much of a life. 

A gilded prison, but a prison just the same. The Fire Lord's darkest secret kept in the open. What fate had decided for the boy was beyond her control, but she made it her personal mission to make life just a little bit more bearable for the young prince.

She took care to make sure his birthday was remembered each year and had The Cook bake him hotcakes in celebration. She could not throw him a party, but she made sure to have the day be special for the young prince nonetheless. Some of the other staff of the west wing joined her in making the young prince’s life just a little more pleasant. 

Wan Yu and the other servants made little gifts for the boy by hand, a carving of his favorite animal the turtle duck from Chaeng, a pair of lucky socks knitted by hand from Yuntal (with little turtle ducks stitched in of course), and a stuffed animal, you guessed it, a turtle duck made with loving care from Wan Yu herself.

It became a running joke that the next year Zuko was with them in the west wing was to be known as the year of the turtle duck, and since it was Zuko’s 12th birthday it meant he was retroactively born under the sign of the turtle duck. 

Zuko never felt like he matched with his sign, too hot headed, and no good fortune to be found so he didn’t mind their playful teasing. Turtle Ducks were way cuter than stinking old pigs anyway. He was careful to keep that to himself, but his opinion was easy for the adults to see though they never commented on it. 

The young prince blushed bright red whenever one of the servants or guards would remark on it being an especially nice year of the turtle duck, but he never corrected them past that first day. It was obvious that he quite enjoyed their childish teasing, though as is with young boys his age he tried to play at being an adult and would never join in on the fun. 

From Du Yi and Han Cho he did not receive birthday gifts in the traditional sense, but that made their efforts no less valuable or kind. As dawn greeted the young prince on his 1st birthday in the west wing so did the two guards, neither man mentioned the young prince’s birthday and instead treated the boy as if he were late for his morning instruction.

Zuko did not question it, truth be told he had forgotten what the day was in his haste to follow the guard’s instructions. As it turned out the two guards had decided to gift the young boy training practice for his birthday, something Wan Yu might have argued about if she had known beforehand--but that was precisely why she was not informed.

Du Yi came from a military family and knew how much value was placed upon physical powers and fighting ability, and how terrible it would feel to be lacking. However Du Yi might have felt if he had fallen behind on his drills, Zuko, the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, would have to feel even worse. 

Since the beginning of the Fire Nation its leaders have all been the most powerful, the best of the very best. There was a weight and responsibility on the young Prince’s shoulders, a weight not even his nature could take from him. 

And so the young guard had taken the even younger prince aside with Han Cho acting as lookout so that Du Yi’s possibly treasonous act of continuing Zuko’s hand to hand and weapon training was not witnessed. 

(Du Yi would have argued it would be more treasonous to _not_ train the crown prince, it was after all the duty of those who ruled to be the strongest so that they could protect their citizens. Granted, it was quite possibly super-illegal-on-pain-of-death to teach an _omega_ the ways of war, but Du Yi was just a lowly guard and the semantics of laws and which would supersede the other was above his station. 

Way, way above his station. Lucky for them all his little acts of maybe-maybe-not treason were never discovered by anyone who would care to report it so he never could find out if ignorance was a valid plea that could have held up in court(It, of course, would not have), nor did he have to find out what the punishment would have been if he had been caught)

While the two guards were playing fast and loose with the rules of combat training neither dared to go so far as to assist with Zuko’s fire bending. 

One: It would be way too obvious what they were doing with the Prince with **fireballs** flying around. 

Two: Neither Du Yi or Han Cho were at the level required to train a royal fire bender. Both were adept, top of their respective classes as all palace guards were, but neither would claim the title of master. Far from it. It would be folly trying to teach someone something one has not yet fully mastered themselves.

Lastly, but certainly not the least: Zuko already had more than enough training so that he would not be a danger to himself or others. Even omega fire benders were taught that much, but only that much. While Du Yi could, and would argue the case for teaching Zuko self defense, there was no excuse for training an omega in offensive fire bending. Zuko already knew more than he should have if he were born to any other family.

Only those of the royal bloodline would start training their children in the ways of violence and war so early. Most children who were born with Agni’s gifts were only taught the basics of control and mastering one’s breath until their 13th birthday. Even great military lineages took care to at least not train their children until they presented. 

Only those of the royal line would be so bold to risk it.

History might say that having the first omega in fire nation history trained in the ways of war was the price for their hubris. A lesson taught to Ozai for pushing his vision of the future on his family at the price of his first born. The reaped consequence of seeds sown by Azulon for falling to the temptation of great power and mixing two great bloodlines that should never have again crossed.

But then again history is written by the victor and the Fire Nation had gone undefeated since Sozin’s time so it was far more likely that the great tragedy that went on in the west wing would be a mere footnote. Years down the line school children might read about the tragic fate of Fire Lord Ozai’s first born and his failing health that had kept him locked away in the palace. There would be no details save for the fact that he died too young but thankfully he had a younger sister who took up the mantle as heir. 

It would of course be mentioned that she was everything her brother was not. She, of course, would have had the history book cement forever that she was unequivocally _better_ than her brother; better than the first born. Just as before her, her father proved to be the better heir. The rightful heir.

The history books might have then gone into several chapter long studies of Azula and her formative years that would lead to her becoming the most fearsome Fire Lord in known history. Her conquests both by her father’s side and alone after his passing would have made Sozin’s conquests seem tame. She would have ended up ruling over the ashes of the world and all that dared defy her and her divine right to rule.

At least that is what history books _might_ have said if it were not for the timely return of the wayward Prince Iroh from his journey of self discovery following the death of his son. 

It was quite lucky for the world, and lucky for the Prince that fate was not quite so cruel as to let that horror of a future come to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one still needs to get polished and read and re-read a dozen times for me to catch the majority of those pesky typos/errors that seem to magically appear when you feel something is ready to be posted. xD
> 
> So be a bit more of a delay before that one gets posted.


	3. Prologue Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at updated chapter count*
> 
> So. . .when I said I had this entire first part written already, I may have truth bent. A little. I only had one last section to write. Really.
> 
> And then as I sat down to write and an entire chapter worth of world building and Iroh happened. Hopefully I do Iroh justice because he is featured heavily in this. A Zuko centric fic must also be Iroh centric as well at least for me as their stories are so intertwined. Zuko would not be the man that he grows up to be if it were not for Iroh's love, care, and annoying as shit proverbs. 
> 
> So yeah, the next chapter you'll have to _suffer_ through some extra Iroh backstory and perspectives. Oh woe is the reader I'm sure. :P

# Prologue Part Three

The years went by with hardly any change to Zuko’s routine, to his small world of a few rooms, a couple hallways and a tiny garden. He had come to accept that this was his life now, he didn't like it but at least he wasn't completely alone. Some days he could almost convince himself it wasn't horrible. 

Almost.

At least until a month after his 13th birthday when his uncle Iroh returned and his life was upturned once again. This time for the better.

There was a buzz of nervous excitement in the guards and servants as they whispered about Prince Iroh's return. 

A smile broke over Zuko's face, he always loved when Iroh would come play with him. He had gone off to conquer Ba Sing Se almost two years before his Mother disappeared and until this very moment Zuko hadn't realized how much he missed his uncle. He has been so lonely since Mother left, since something became wrong in him that kept everyone away. Besides the increasingly rare visits from his sister and his father his only company has been three guards, two servants, The Cook and of course Qing Lei, the head doctor and Wan Yu his mother's personal servant who had taken over as Zuko's teacher after his mother had left.

They had become a second family to him, even the guard, Zheng, was almost like a father to him with his undisguised looks of disgust and eternal disappointment with Zuko. But they weren't his real family, the family that didn't want to see him. The family he had broken apart by being wrong. The smile on his face wavered. 

Why would Uncle want to see him when his own father and sister didn't? Just because he had been gone for years didn’t mean anything, if it did maybe his Mother would have come back but he knew that would never happen either. Zuko's shoulders slumped in defeat, he should know better than to get his hopes up. Just like how he had hope for a visit from his family last month when he turned 13, but all he got was a slightly charred card from Azula and not even a word from his father. He should have known then it would have been a repeat of last year and the year before but he's always been foolish.

The guards changed shifts an hour later and when Du Yi relieved Zheng he was all but bouncing on his toes(not literally of course, the guards do have standards). He was the youngest of the guards assigned to Zuko, only 25 but he seldom acted anything less than proper for a palace guard. That was the first time Zuko could tell he was that much younger than the rest of the guards he had seen around the palace growing up. Du Yi gave him a look that clearly said ‘later’ as he gestured to Zheng. Zuko gave a short nod and waited as patiently as any 13 year old was able to (which was actually extremely patient considering his whole life has felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop) for Zheng to leave before shooting off questions rapid fire at Du Yi.

"What's going on? Is it true? Is Uncle back? How is he? Is he still sad? Do you think he'd want to see me? Is that allowed?" Du Yi raised his hands as if trying to block all the questions asked at once.

"Prince Iroh is back, yes." He answered first but had to raise a finger to stop Zuko from asking even more questions. "One at time Prince Zuko." He admonished without any heat, stopping for a moment as if he had to remember what all Zuko had asked. "He looked. . . okay. Like he clearly has seen better days, but he doesn't look like he's still in mourning at least." 

Zuko let out a sigh of relief, he knew how bad he felt when Mother left. He couldn't even imagine how hard it would have been if she had died instead. No one should ever feel that bad. Never ever.

"Judging by the shouting I think it is pretty safe to say he wants to see you, and even if it's not allowed?" Du Yi leaned in to whisper conspiratorially with Zuko. "I don't think The Fire Lord is gonna stop him. They don't call him the Dragon of the West for nothing after all." Du Yi said with a wink.

"Really?" Zuko's voice was raw and too honest but he couldn't help it. Small fists twisted in the fabric of his robes. Du Yi pretended to ignore the slip up, most of the staff did actually. It was really only Father who cared about him showing weakness, but that didn’t stop Zuko from feeling guilty each and every time he let his weakness slip, it wouldn’t do to become complacent.

"Really, really." Du Yi said with a smile that slipped into a full on grin a few moments later when the sounds of shouting that could be heard coming from the other side of the palace drew closer and closer. He winked at Zuko before turning back and marching up to the doors as if he expected to greet a visitor for the first time in two years.

And he did just that. 

The doors opened with a slam, thrown open none too gently by Uncle Iroh who was not wasting one more second arguing with the guard stationed outside of the west wing who was trying to keep him from his nephew. Golden eyes, one pair lit with the fire of anger, the other filled with a mix of fear and hope met in the next moment. Time seemed to stop, neither one had laid eyes upon another in nearly five years, one eyed the other warily, hopefully while the other flirted around as if taking in every detail. 

Zuko felt exposed under that searching gaze, it felt as if Uncle could read him like a book. As if he could see all the pain, the loneliness, and worst of all; the guilt Zuko carried around with him. His vision started to blur as tears threatened to spill, he knew any second now his Uncle would see It.

See whatever it was that made him Wrong. That made everyone leave. 

He'd see it and he would turn around without a look back and Zuko would be left alone again. His fists were clenched at his sides, angry at himself for being wrong, angry at the world for making him this way. His head tilted down unwilling to watch disgust seep into his Uncle's eyes just like it had with his father.

"Oh Zuko." Uncle's voice was soft, as fragile as Zuko felt himself at that moment. A sniffle escaped then, it was a weakness and he knew he shouldn't show it but he couldn’t help it. Fear gripped him at his unforgivable slip, but in the next moment he was wrapped up in strong arms and pressed into a surprisingly soft chest. 

Words were said over his head but they were just sounds to Zuko and unimportant. Nothing could hold importance over the fact that his Uncle was hugging him like he would have Before. Like there isn't something so wrong with Zuko that made everyone but Wan Yu afraid to touch him. 

Somehow they ended up in Zuko's room though the boy couldn't remember how they got there, or why his face was wet. Uncle just shushed him when he made a questioning noise.

"Don't worry my dear nephew. I'm here now, things will get better. I'll make sure of it." Uncle's voice dropped lower when he said the last part, he said it like a promise, a vow. One he actually meant to keep.

And that he did.

After Iroh's return to the caldera things changed for Zuko. He wasn't alone so much anymore, not with Uncle there to keep him company. The first few days, and then the first few weeks, Zuko kept waiting for it to happen.

For him to leave, just like everyone else had. 

But he stayed. 

He moved into Azula's old room next to Zuko's as if it were nothing. As if he had nowhere else he would rather be. He took over as Zuko's instructor and even helped him with his admittedly terrible fire bending abilities that had somehow managed to become even worse after two years of no one to train him.

Zuko didn’t know then how much his Uncle risked by continuing his fire bending training, nor would he if Iroh had anything to say about it. The guards were smart enough to keep their mouths shut either way. No one sane would dare risk getting caught in between a blood feud between brothers, especially not when one was their Fire Lord and the other the Great Dragon of the West. They weren’t paid nearly well enough for that kind of trouble.

It took time for Zuko to grow used to Uncle's company, and it took even longer for him to accept the fact that he was there to stay. Uncle probably just missed his son and Zuko reminded him of enough of Lu Ten to want to stay. Zuko was pretty sure that was why his Uncle stayed and he might have felt bad about it if he weren't so damn grateful. The servants were nice, and Wan Yu treated him so tenderly, but they still treated him as separate, as something different from themselves.

Only Uncle treated him the same as Before. Zuko didn't know if the others treated him differently because of their difference in class and station. He had been taught that royalty were above servants but after having just these so-called lower class people for company these last two years? He knows what he was taught was wrong. These people have cared for him despite his wrongness, they have ignored his moments of weakness when no one else would. It must speak highly of his servants' duty and loyalty to brave facing him each and every day when even his own family could not stomach the sight of him more than a few times a year.

Maybe Uncle treated him the same because he couldn’t see it. Maybe he was blind to the wrongness of Zuko because of his love for Lu Ten. Zuko wanted to ask, yet he didn't want to know the answer at the same time. He was afraid, always so afraid. What if he asked and it made Uncle see it and he left? But what if he didn't ask and Uncle left anyway? Then he would never know, there was so much he didn’t know already and he hated it. He couldn’t stand that no one would tell him.

He was nearly 14 by the time he worked up the courage to ask. The sooner he learned the truth, the better. The not knowing had been quietly eating him up from the inside like poison all this time. He had woken from a nightmare, the same one he's had for years where everyone looks down at him in disgust before turning and leaving. They never look back at him no matter how loud he yells, how hard he cries. It's like he doesn't even exist to them.

He woke up sweating and shaking, spirits did he hate that nightmare. It took him a few minutes to get a hold of himself and the fear to turn to anger. He's just so damn sick of this nightmare! Waking and sleeping! He's all but been banished to these few rooms and he doesn't even know why! He kicked off his blankets and stomped over to Iroh's room not even bothering to knock before he pushed open the door.

"Zuko?" His Uncle asked with a sleep rough voice instantly defusing more than half of the anger inside Zuko's chest. "Is everything all right?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his concern genuine. 

Zuko felt his throat close up, he shouldn't have come in here. Spirits! What was he thinking? So what if he doesn't know what is wrong with him, so what if Uncle leaves later--at least he won't leave now. At least he will still talk to Zuko and ask him questions like it matters.

Like he matters. 

It's not worth risking losing all that any sooner than he has to. Zuko knows he won't get to keep this, to keep Uncle, he knows that. He really does, but is it so wrong he wants to hold on just a little bit longer?

"What is the matter my nephew?" Crap, he was quiet for too long and now his Uncle was looking at him really worried. He tried to think of a lie, but he's always been so bad at lying, bad at everything, so he said nothing. The cloud of sleep was gone from Uncle's eyes by that point and the older man just pulled Zuko towards himself forcing the teen to sit on his bed next to him. Though he did not take his hand back, instead keeping it on his nephew's arm with a steady yet gentle grip. An anchor Zuko didn’t even realize he needed until he had it.

They stared at each other in silence for long minutes, but Iroh had the patience of a Pai Sho Grand Master. He would wait for as long as it takes for his nephew to sort his thoughts. To be ready to hear his answers. He has always cared greatly for his sweet nephew, more like his mother than his father, but seeing the man he's turning into despite the hardships he has had to face? It makes Iroh love him all the more. 

Fate and the spirits have not been kind to his nephew, and neither has his family, but despite it all his nephew has not turned bitter, nor hateful. No, his beautiful nephew instead shows kindness and respect to the servants who are more like his prison guards than he knows. He would have every reason to lash out, to be cruel and yet he does not. Iroh could not say for certain he would have been able to do the same if it had happened to him when he was younger and full of fire.

Which is not to say his nephew does not have a temper, which he most certainly does, but he does not let it consume him as another might. It is clear to see that his nephew is angry at the world, and he has every right to be, but he doesn't take that as an excuse to be ugly to those around him. Instead, the boy's heart is still full of so much love, it is easy to see when he spends hours watching the baby turtle ducks, or how he always tried to help Wan Yu with her work when she wasn't looking.

One might argue that Zuko was only kind to the servants because that was all he had left, but Iroh knew that was not all there was to it. Yes, being trapped in this gilded cage had changed him, but if his heart were not pure before this surely it would have corrupted him. If he had been more like his father instead of his mother. . .

Iroh was pulled from his thoughts when his nephew cleared his throat. He gave the young boy his full attention as he waited for him to speak.

"What’s wrong with me?" The words came out stronger than either of them expected judging from the way they both startled slightly. "Why won't Father look at me? What is so wrong with me that mm-Mother had to leave?" Zuko's voice cracked as he stumbled over the word and it broke Iroh's heart all over again.

His brother, Ozai, had said the boy didn't know, but it had never occurred to Iroh until that very moment what that might truly mean. Had Zuko been wondering all these years what happened? Had no one taken mercy on him and told him the truth all this time? How had Iroh been blind to his nephew's suffering? How could he have let his nephew mistakenly believe it was his fault all this time?

"Absolutely nothing is wrong with you Prince Zuko." Muscles tensed under Iroh's hand as he spoke and the boy started to move as if to pull away but Iroh would not let him go. Iroh tugged on Zuko's wrist pulling the boy against him and wrapped his arms around the boy’s smaller frame. Old fingers smoothed through sleep mussed black hair for a moment before he continued.

"You are as you were always meant to be my Nephew. Nothing is wrong now, nor was it ever. I can feel you tensing Zuko, this is not one of my proverbs meant to teach you, I am only speaking the truth." Zuko pulled back as his eyes searched Iroh's for deception but there was none. "The reason your father won't look at you is not your fault. You must believe me."

"B-but why then? You say it is not my fault but it is still because of me isn't it? I can hear you say it with your silence, there’s no use denying it Uncle." Iroh let out a tiny huff of air, nor even worth calling a laugh.

"You are right of course." Zuko becomes steel beneath his fingers but Iroh’s surprisingly strong grip would not let him go. "Your father is a. . .traditional man, our father, your grandfather Azulon, raised us to see the world in a certain way. We were blind to the truths of this world.

“When I went to war-” Iroh paused, his voice thick with loss when he spoke next, “When I lost Lu Ten, I was forced to see reality. To see the world how it truly is and I learned not all things we were taught were correct, not even the things the Fire Lord, our Father had taught us were true."

Zuko sucked in a great gasp of air. Uncle had just spoken treason. In the palace of all places! His eyes were wild as he looked back at his Uncle's but the old man was calm if not more than a little sad. 

"You can't say things like that!" Zuko half whispered, half shouted, earning a chuckle from his Uncle for his trouble.

"Can and did." Zuko was openly gaping at his Uncle, maybe the whispers of his Uncle losing his mind were true after all.

"Uncle please, don't say such things. It's not safe." He begged fingers gripping the back of Uncle's hand, but his worries were just waved off with a shake of a grey haired head.

"Where as I saw the world outside of the Fire Nation your Father has never left our islands. I wish I could say that it would not be fair to judge him for his ignorance, but I find myself doing it all the same. No one should have been treated as you have been my nephew. You are no less than I, just as I am no more than you. We are different, and yet we are the same."

"Must you always speak in riddles?" Zuko's tone was petulant but long suffering, almost fond despite the subject matter. Truly a wonderful child, Iroh thought to himself.

"Sometimes it is easier to talk in circles rather than in straight lines, I find the curves dull the edge that harsh truths might not cut so deep." Golden eyes squinted at him in confusion as his young nephew tried to parse the meaning of his words so Iroh took pity and spoke plain. "What that means, my dear Nephew, is that I don't wish to see you hurt by my words so I talk in circles like the old coward I am instead of answering you plainly." 

Zuko's cheeks colored red at the blunt admission but the spark in his eyes let his Uncle know it was the right choice.

"How much were you taught of natures before?" When Uncle says it, it isn't capitalized, but when Zuko hears 'Before' it always is. There was never any need to specify, Before might as well be an age in a history book the way it is referenced. The way it is tiptoed around without saying it out right. The way it has divided Zuko's life into good and bad.

"People are divided into three groups, Alphas, Betas, and Omegas.” Zuko started with a straight back as if called on by a tutor to recite a well known passage. 

“Each nature has its place in society and each member must fulfill their role. Alphas are the strongest, fastest, and best of the three. They are the rulers, the leaders, and the best fighters. Betas are weaker and slower than Alphas and thus must serve under their betters. They are fit to serve in the military and at court but always the lower to mid ranks, never leading. Omegas are the lowest of the three natures. They are weak, soft, and nearly as helpless as a child. Their only real strength comes from family-- there are no better mothers than omega mothers." Zuko trailed off for a moment thinking of his own mother. 

"Omegas from strong lineages are often married to royalty and to high ranking military officials. They are valued as wives for the Alpha elite for two reasons: One being that the risk of having a beta child is reduced due to the fact that they are the weakest nature, and two; because they are fiercely loyal and will fight like a tiger dragon for their children." Zuko's jaw clenched. The monotone voice he had spoken in cracked on the last word in anger and in hurt.

"But that's not true is it Uncle? If it were true Mother never would have left me, left Azula. If that were true she would have stayed with us, unless, unless I really am that awful to have driven her from Azula too--"

"No!" Uncle shouted too loud in the dark bedroom, his anger briefly flaring the candle on the bedside table before he was able to reign in his anger. "No," Uncle repeated in a gentle voice, "Your Mother loved you more than anything else in her life and that is why she had to leave."

"I don't understand, why would she leave me if she loved me? That doesn't make any sense!" Iroh smiled sadly and brushed a stray lock of hair from Zuko's face.

"Do you remember your history? About the bloodlines of the Fire Lords?" Zuko nodded slowly confused about the abrupt subject change. "When was the last time a beta or an omega was born in our line?" Zuko's eyes scrunched up at the trick question, even a small child would know this.

"Never. The blood of the Fire Lords is the strongest in the entire world, we have never had anything less than a top alpha. Everyone knows that, even water tribe savages know it." He proclaimed proudly as any fire nation royal would.

"What do you think would happen if a beta was born to our line? Or an omega?"

"That's-that’s impossible! Our blood is too strong, don’t even joke about it Uncle."

"What if someone, an omega, had a stronger lineage than her alpha husband? What happens then? We have always been always so careful when choosing which omegas to marry into our line until the fire sages spoke of a prophecy that would give Azulon’s line great power. Azulon’s line and that of Avatar Roku’s must be joined, and there was only one living descendant left of Roku’s line.” 

"What are you saying?" Zuko whispered into the darkness not truly wanting the answer but needing to hear it all the same.

"Avatar Roku had a daughter called Rina, and Rina in turn had a daughter named Ursa. Your mother. The grand daughter of Avatar Roku and the son of the Fire Lord, with two bloodlines as powerful as that there would be no way to know which parent the children would take after."

"B-but everyone says I look just like Father." Zuko has seen the portraits of his Father when he was Zuko's age. They could have been twins.

"But you have your mother's heart, her very nature and it would seem that it proved to be stronger." This time when Zuko pulled away Iroh let him go. Zuko stood and started pacing the short length of the room.

"What are you saying? I can't be--" Zuko shook his head as if he could shake the idea out of his head but it had already taken root. "I would know-- it would be obvious if I was-- I don't feel any different!" Zuko ran his fingers through his hair. His fingers curled into fists and tugged at black strands painfully.

Unless of course that is why he has always been so bad at everything. Why Azula, even three years younger, was so much better. At everything. Of course! Spirits, how could he be so blind? His weak flames that never seemed to improve no matter how many extra hours he trained with his instructors and with his father personally. ~~They have gotten better the last two months with Uncle though~~ His treacherous mind supplied but he knew then that it was just wishful thinking.

All this time he had thought his instructors cruel, and his father too harsh but they were just trying their best for him. Maybe if he had just tried harder he wouldn't be _this_. Maybe if he had listened instead of cried to his Mother his Father's blood would have won out and he wouldn't be trapped in the west wing, his Mother wouldn't be gone and his Father wouldn't hate him. His breathing turned ragged, too shallow and too fast.

Zuko fell down onto his knees before Iroh could jump to his feet. The sharp sting of pain knocked the teen out of his spiraling thoughts in time to see his Uncle's eyes widen in realization before his entire face crumbled in realization. The old man rushed to his young nephew cupping his face between his wrinkled hands. He bent over and pressed his forehead against his nephew's and just breathed. 

In and out. In and out. Controlling one's breath is so ingrained in fire benders that Zuko mirrored him without a single thought. His panicked hiccuping gasps slowing and evening out. Once Iroh could feel his nephew match him breath for breath he broke the silence with his words.

"What you are is not bad, you have never been bad. Or weak, or anything else you have been wrongfully taught about omegas. You are my beloved nephew, who never gives up and always gives everything his all. Though you may not be the prodigy your sister is, you more than make up for it in determination and hard work. Don't shake your head, I have commanded and trained thousands of troops in my long life and I have an eye for those who would grow into true fire blossoms if they but had the right care.

"You have that within you Zuko, but more importantly you have a good heart. Techniques, power, stamina, they can all be trained and improved on with enough time and effort, but one's heart? That is something only the person themselves can change and I can say from personal experience to change one's own heart? There is no task more difficult, nor as costly.

"I know you don't want to hear this now, that you won't believe I am speaking the truth, but I am. I would not lie to you about this, about the beautiful, brave boy I see before me. Someday I hope you will see yourself as I see you, but I understand if today is not that day, nor the next, nor even the one after that. But someday you will and so will everyone else."


	4. Prologue Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired of staring at this and endlessly editing so here it is. #goodenough #Igiveup 
> 
> Can't wait til I'm past the prologue and the timey wimey jumping around and the random back story out of no where crap. Makes my brain hurt bounding around so much, sorry if it hurts anyone's eyes.

# Prologue Part Four

Iroh was right when he said Zuko would not believe him, the rest of the time they had together in the west wing he would silently doubt his Uncle's words, but he would not argue with the old man. Zuko allowed himself two days to wallow in misery before he decided he needed to pull himself together. 

So what if he was a weak omega? That didn't make him any less of a prince did it? He had already brought enough shame on his family just for being born, he would not disgrace them any further by continuing to be so weak and pathetic.

Over the next four months Zuko pushed himself harder than he ever had before. It wasn't like he was being lax before, far from it, but now he was truly driven. For the first time in two long years he had a goal, a sense of purpose. Even if he was never to leave the west wing again he had to make sure that he was good enough to impress, or at the very least not bring further embarrassment to his father and their family name. 

His birthday had come and gone without a visit from his father, something that did not surprise Zuko by that point, but his Uncle did not let the day pass without remark. Unbeknownst to the young prince his Uncle had conspired with the staff of the west wing to throw a small party in his nephew’s honor. 

Iroh was pleasantly surprised to find out that he wasn’t the only one who planned to celebrate his nephew’s special day. In fact, he came to find out that they had been doing what little they could for the two years before he arrived to make sure little Zuko could at least enjoy a pleasant birthday. 

When Iroh had told the staff of his idea for a surprise birthday party Wan Yu gave him a soft, genuine smile and beckoned him to follow her. In the kitchen he found the Cook had all the ingredients for the Prince’s favorite hot cakes ready and the fire flakes were already done and spiced. Next Wan Yu led Iroh to the servants’ room which she had already gone through the trouble of decorating. Iroh knew that this was no small show of the care she held for his nephew and her willingness to trust Iroh despite his status as royalty.

Within the palace servants were to be seen and not heard, merely extensions of their master’s will if one were to believe the old texts of noble rights. Less and less people still truly believed that those days, but within the royal palace was one place it was still openly practiced. The many servants who worked day and night in the palace waiting on their lords’ hands and feet were taken for granted-- which was to be expected of any ruling elite really. Even during Iroh's journey of self discovery he had the chance to witness the lower class being treated as lesser by their “betters”. 

At first he saw nothing wrong with it, it was the way it had always been for him after all. It wasn’t until he was wandering on his own, at the mercy of the world and ironically enough, at the mercy of the lower class that his world view changed. 

He was distraught and so very lost after Lu Ten, he sent off a messenger hawk abdicating the throne and abandoned the siege not an hour after he laid his only son to rest. He shouted and breathed flame at all who tried to calm him, to comfort him. Not even his most loyal soldiers would brave to stand by his side as the Great Dragon of the West stormed off the battlefield in mourning. Iroh had made it clear he was done with everything that had caused him to lose Lu Ten. Not one of his lieutenants tried to stop him, nor did they dare breathe a word of how his actions were desertion. 

While none tried to stop him, one outspoken captain asked to come along-- not in cowardice but out of a sense of loyalty. He too was turned away none too kindly, but the younger man did not take his commander’s cruel words to heart. The captain merely bowed deeply before pressing all of his personal supplies into the older man’s arms begging without words for his lowly gift to be accepted.

Even burning with rage and drowning in hurt Iroh was raised with an ingrained sense of respect and civility. With as much grace as he was able to muster at the time, which was shamefully little, he accepted the meager bag of supplies before marching off back straight away from the siege camp.

(Iroh, like most people, would end up playing that exchange and his poor manners on repeat for many years as he laid awake at night. An endless replaying of the greatest hits of his many, many mistakes on bad nights. But unlike most people he made a point to seek out all those he had wronged and worked to set his mistakes to rights. His impolite behavior to one such captain was one of the first he was able to receive forgiveness for but that is a story for another time.)

If it were not for that pack Iroh could have very well starved in those first few weeks as he wandered the ransacked Earth Kingdom. He walked through burned out villages and towns-- seeing with new eyes his own handiwork and the consequences of his actions. 

Feeling pain as his supplies dwindled and his stomach shrank. A pain he caused so carelessly in countless others over the years as he commanded armies.

And yet even when he was at his most low it was by the kindness of others he was not left to rot, though he felt he deserved it at the time. Felt it even more keenly as the very people he was hell bent on conquering not months before were the very ones to come to his aid. Common folk, dirty and not much better off than he was, shared with him what little they had.

His clothes and his eyes made it clear what nation he hailed from. Disgraced as he was, he was still their enemy and they had no reason to help him, but they did so anyway. Mistaken for a cowardly deserter(but then again, he really was one wasn’t he?) they fed him and gave him shelter from the elements in their stables, in their basements, or just scooting over so they could share the shade under a tree. 

For many years Iroh had wandered the other three nations as a commoner, a beggar, a nomad born of homelessness. He learned more about the world and himself in those short years than he had in the 50 years of life before then. He learned kindness and selflessness that could only come from those who had nothing and still found a way to help an old man, or feed a small child.

Iroh shook his head clearing away his nostalgic thoughts as he was ushered into the servants’ room. For them to share this little space, their one safe place away from the nobles with him and his nephew? Iroh was not ashamed to feel water gather in his eyes at their kindness. The old man knew it was in no small part due to his nephew’s. . .circumstances, but that was not all, Iroh was sure of it. 

The soft smiles and the genuine care in the handmade decorations featuring his nephew’s beloved turtle ducks spoke louder than words. The palace was full of priceless artifacts, untold wealth, but Iroh would trade it all for this.

For the way his nephew’s eyes lit up and the ever present weight of who and what he was being lifted, if for just one afternoon. To see his young nephew be carefree and act as any child his age should was a greater gift than all the riches in the vault. Iroh’s heart was filled with pride as he watched his nephew open his gifts from the servants--all handmade but you wouldn’t know it based on his expressions.

Each and every one of the gifts was special to him. His fingers tightened over a hand stitched handkerchief as if it were made from the finest of silk rather than simple cotton. The care he took as he placed it within his pocket and the bow of his head as he thanked the gift giver-- more humble than any royalty Iroh has ever known.

His heart squeezed in his chest at the parallels in their lives. Both were once proud, too proud children of royalty who took everything and everyone for granted until they themselves were forced to rely upon their ‘lessers’. Young Zuko might have never starved and been reduced to begging on the streets but he was no less deprived.

To have been taken away from everyone so young, to be kept apart and deprived of familial love? To not have even had anyone to beg to for surely his pleas would have fallen on his father’s deaf ears--if they ever even reached him. 

When was the last time he played with or even saw another child his own age? Wan Yu already said this was the first party he’s had, the first celebration he was allowed. How much did Iroh himself play and frolic as children were meant to do by the time he was Zuko’s age? How many times has Zuko been out of the Caldera? Or the Palace? Or even just these few rooms?

Iroh decided right then and there that the little he was doing for his nephew was not enough. He was foolish to ever think it would be enough to just stand by his young nephew’s side as he waited for old age to take him. Once he might have been content to live in peace inside these palace walls having spent time abroad, but he could not in good conscience allow his nephew to stay here his entire life. 

Never tasting wagashi desserts from Kiyoshi Island, never seeing the dancing lights in the night sky above the poles, never visiting one of the many sprawling markets of the Earth Kingdom.

Never forming bonds that would grow and deepen as time passed with anyone besides his old uncle?

What kind of life would that be? What kind of person would Iroh be if he allowed it to come to pass? 

He may have given up the throne but he was still the Great Dragon of the West. His name and his blood carried weight even still. Though he had been gone for many years he could still claim many friends and allies at court. Many of which who had already welcomed him back with open arms. He was the first born, the favored son of late Azulon and that meant something.

If he had the desire, the will, and the ruthlessness his family was so well known for, Iroh could reclaim the throne that was his right by birth. He was a great general whereas his brother had never stepped foot on a battlefield-- if it came to a violent coup most, if not all, generals would side with the eldest. 

And at court? Ozai was liked even less, he had too much of his father and grandfather in him. Cruel, devious, and with no loyalty to anyone but to himself. Those who said the wrong thing, stepped even an inch out of line? They were punished severely. Ozai was a master manipulator who knew how to connive and bully people into doing as he pleased--but he had never mastered the art of playing nice. Too many powerful lords and ladies had been slighted by their Fire Lord but none would dare oppose him.

To overthrow a Fire Lord? Unheard of. 

But to have two great claims to the throne fight over it? A blood feud between brothers over the throne? Perfectly acceptable, and the only legal way to remove a Fire Lord from the throne that was still in practice.

Some of the more cunning and devious nobles and one general had, in not so many words, pledged their support to Iroh since his return. He had taken care to say nothing to deny or confirm to any of them, as was expected with the dance of subterfuge. 

But Iroh had no desire for the throne, and even less for the bloodshed required to take it. He loved his brother still despite his many, many faults. Even knowing his brother must have had his hand in their father’s death, Iroh did not think he could raise his flame against family. Even though it was clear his brother’s lust for power and glory would lead not only their nation, but the entire world into dark times, Iroh knew he had not the inner strength to fight his kin.

But that did not mean he would allow his brother to let his only son rot away in the west wing. Watching his dear nephew smile tiny smiles as if his lips were not accustomed to it as he opened the few meager gifts before him solidified Iroh’s resolve. Whatever it took, he would free his nephew and give him a better life. Perhaps it would be beyond his power to give him the life he deserved, but at the very least his Uncle could be there to ensure it was a happy and full one.

After that day Iroh spent more time away from the west wing and the palace to the boy’s disappointment but each and every time Iroh swore to return with the same tone and feeling that he would a sacred oath so that his nephew would believe him. The first time he left the palace since his return his nephew didn’t say a word, but his eyes burned with such hurt Iroh almost couldn’t make himself leave. 

Everyone he had ever cared for had left him and Uncle was no different his fears told him. Everything inside Zuko screamed for him to beg, to plead for Uncle to stay. What if he left the palace and never came back? What if he remembered how nice life could be outside of the west wing? 

What if something bad happened and he _couldn’t_ return?

Zuko stomped down on his fears and swallowed the words before they could escape. He would not shame himself further, nor would he shame his Uncle. He was 14 now, he wasn’t a baby who cried when he didn’t get what he wanted. 

He would have to trust in his Uncle’s words, in his intentions. He would not disrespect his Uncle by doubting him, but all the same he prepared himself for more loss and pain. He knew well of his own luck by that point after all.

The first time Uncle left he was only gone one singular day, but it felt like a lifetime to young Zuko. He was short and let his temper fly around the palace staff. He spit sparks as he yelled at Wan Yu when she tried to comfort him by saying that of course his Uncle would return because he loved Zuko.

As if love meant anything. If it did Mother would have found her way back to him. He shouted as much to Wan Yu, forgetting himself in the moment. Forgetting that she too loved his Mother, having been her personal servant and friend since the moment Ursa first stepped into the Caldera so long ago.

He watched hurt flicker across her face and his mouth snapped shut. He did that. He hurt someone, one of the first people to be kind to him since he came to be trapped in the west wing. One of only two people brave enough to touch and hold him despite what he was.

And he hurt her.

The flames and sparks died out as he stumbled his way through an apology, but she would not hear it. 

“You are hurting right now, I know you did not mean it like that.” She then grabbed his hand and squeezed it between her own. Giving him comfort though he did not deserve it, not after how he acted towards her. He wanted to pull his hand away, to fall to his knees and prove how sorry he was but she would have none if it. 

Instead she sat him down and brushed his hair as she told the young prince tales from her youth. She spoke for what must have been hours about growing up in the Caldera as a merchant’s daughter. Some tales were funny, others moving, but all very interesting to the sheltered prince. 

By the time she had fallen silent the turmoil inside Zuko had settled into peace. Into acceptance. In his fear over losing his Uncle he had allowed himself to forget that it wasn’t just Uncle who cared for him. 

In a rare display of affection he turned around and hugged Wan Yu tightly. That was the first time he had been the one to initiate a hug or any other sort of contact. It surprised Wan Yu, but she quickly recovered and hugged back just as fiercely. 

“Thank you” Was whispered against her shoulder before he released her, his carefully combed hair once again slightly messed after the impromptu hug. Wan Yu brushed a stray lock back behind his ear, her fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment. Zuko’s eyes slipped shut all on their own only fluttering back open once her hand returned to her lap.

The rest of the day Zuko took care to avoid blowing up at anyone else. Instead he spent his time at the turtle duck pond watching and feeding them. It was soothing in a way nothing else could be. Though he had spent countless hours at the turtle duck pond Before and after he never grew tired of it. In a way he was part of the turtle duck family by that point. The mother had long past accepted Zuko and as such had no qualms about her little ducklings being held by the young prince. In fact, during winter months the mother duck would pick up and encourage her babies to sit on the ever warm fire bender. 

Zuko stayed out with the turtle ducks that day until the sun had begun to set and the ducklings went off to their nest to rest. Zuko’s stomach gurgled in protest as soon as he was no longer distracted by cute ducklings. It admonished him for skipping not only lunch but dinner as well. He patted his stomach but it was already well past dinner time so it looked like he would either have to go without or wait until darkness fell upon the palace so that he could sneak into the kitchens and make himself something simple.

Long before Iroh returned, and even before the Before, Zuko had enjoyed sneaking around the palace. Partly to avoid running into anyone because he always seemed to say or do the wrong thing even back then as to make whoever he ran into grimace and partly because it was so fun. 

It was one of the very, very few things he was _actually_ good at. He could step as quietly as a rat mouse, climb like a spider cat, and jump like a squirrel toad. Unbeknownst to anyone he had long been sneaking out in the dead of night to prowl around the palace--even during his banishment to the west wing. Though, he took care to follow the letter of the law rather than the spirit and made sure he did not leave the west wing _technically_.

He would time the patrols and carefully scale the palace walls themselves. It was both training and good fun for the prince-- and it’s not like it was hurting anyone. He had never been caught and he didn’t leave the west wing, he just liked to sit on the roof of said wing and look out over the sleeping city of the Caldera even if he would never again get to walk its streets.

Zuko stood up and stretched his legs after so many hours sitting by the pond before he turned to leave when he nearly tripped over a small package wrapped with brown paper. He immediately recognized it as the paper used to keep food fresh used by The Cook. A soft smile curved his lips, it would seem he wouldn’t have to sneak into the kitchens after all, though he knew sleep would evade him that night so he still planned on sneaking up to the roof as soon as it was dark enough.

That night Zuko watched over the city below taking small bites from the sandwiches that The Cook was so kind to make special for him and he felt like he might be okay. Life went on for the people below him as it would for him. Uncle would come back with some new tea Zuko wouldn’t care for but he would humor his Uncle anyway because he was showing Zuko a kindness by sharing the things he liked the most with him. 

When the morning light came it brought his Uncle with it much to the prince’s relief. He may have tackled his Uncle in a hug unbefitting of a crown prince, and his Uncle may have swept him off his feet crushing him to his chest like one would a small child-- but under threat of torture no one who witnessed the ~~sweet~~ unbecoming behavior of the two princes would admit to having witnessed anything at all.

The head servant especially would not have admitted to finding the young prince asleep with his head resting on his Uncle’s shoulder with a tea cup still loosely grasped in his hand just an hour later.


	5. Prologue Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at the ever increasing chapter total in shame*
> 
> Look, in my defense I _reaaaaalllly_ don't want to write the last chapter of the prologue so have more backstory and insight into the characters I guess? Like I write a lot of villains' perspectives because they have to have reasons behind what they do. Most every bad person didn't start that way, once they were good but over time and tragedy lost their way. (some, like Zhao, were always bad seeds sure, but they are the exception and not the rule) In my mind Ozai would be no exception, now I'm **certainly** not condoning anything he does, nor forgiving him...but being raised by Azulon who was in turn raised by Sozin? That boy would be right messed up ammrite? 
> 
> Anyway. . .
> 
> I swear, no more putting off the inevitable, next one will be the end of the prologue and I can finally get a move on with my life and this story haha 
> 
> (What if I told you this prologue was a two sentence blip on my story outline and I have no idea how it turned into this? I just wanted to write Book two more than anything but then I was like...I need backstory...and here we are)

# Prologue Part Five

Rumors began to fly around court about Iroh, Zuko, and their Fire Lord. They were as varied as the many animals of their world, fluctuating wildly from person to person.

Some nobles speculated that the loss of Lu Ten that made the Great Dragon of the West abdicate his throne had made the older man grow weak. They scoffed as he took too much stake in the affairs of his brother’s child, treating him as if he were his own son. Some of the more imaginative of them would go on to spout that the reason Prince Zuko was hidden away in the west wing was all Iroh’s doing--that, in his grief, the man made a deal with his younger brother giving him the throne in exchange for his son.

Other rumors amongst the noble ladies at court speculated that the timing of Ursa leaving and her son being locked away from prying eyes was far too convenient. Perhaps Fire Lord Azulon’s heart attack was not because of the news of Lu Ten’s death but of Ursa’s infidelity. It was no secret that she had a lover before she was whisked away to the capital, and the birth of Zuko was so soon after her marriage to Ozai. . .

A few of Zuko’s old tutors started a particularly vicious rumor about the boy that would support some of the noble women’s theories. What if the boy was born a beta? It was not uncommon for a child to present at the age Zuko was hidden away. The royal family could never produce a beta and that was how Ursa’s infidelity was finally uncovered. They would scoff at how terrible and soft the prince was, it would be no wonder if the boy turned out to be a beta with how slowly he learned in comparison to his _younger_ sister.

Most people would not put any stock into the above mentioned rumors but one of the more popular ones that got around the palace was very simple: Ozai favored his second born for two very good reasons.

One: She was born under the luckiest of signs and was a fire bending prodigy the likes of which had not been seen in centuries.

Two: She was every bit her father’s daughter while her brother was very much his mother’s son. 

It just plain made sense for Ozai to favor the one who took after him. It also didn’t hurt that she was second born just like Ozai was. Some speculated that a new tradition of the second born taking the throne would begin with Ozai’s reign.

While rumors about the why’s and the how’s varied from person to person one thing they had in common was how much Iroh cared for his nephew. Some of the more wild conspiracy theorists painted Iroh’s interest in a dark light, they insisted that Iroh, overcome with grief, had lost his touch with reality. He could not handle the loss of his only son and saw Zuko as Lu Ten and not his nephew. Most believed he wanted to ‘play house’ as he came off as a harmless old man too tired to bother with the crown, but some insisted that he was playing the long game. That he would twist Prince Zuko to his side so that he could rule from the shadows when the time came.

There was even one where they thought that Lu Ten had never died but instead was being held in the west wing as ransom for Iroh to give up the crown. They (and by ‘they’ we mean one palace guard who had taken one too many blows to the head in the line of duty) swore up and down that Ursa was a witch who used dark blood magic to trade her son’s soul with Lu Ten’s in a scheme to get her husband the throne. When Ozai, recently crowned Fire Lord, found out about it he banished her but by then it was too late and the damage was done so he just went along with it to save face. 

All of these rumors were, of course, utter rubbish.

It is said truth is often stranger than fiction, and this was one such case. Not one person suspected that Zuko could be an omega, especially not one with full royal blood. Even the rumors of him being a beta relied upon him being a bastard. So indoctrinated were the fire nation people in the lies of blood lines that not one person could have believed the truth unless it was right in front of their faces(and even then many would continue to deny it), and those that knew the truth were sworn to secrecy that not even the pain of death could break.

Not that any of that mattered to Iroh, he actively fed as many of the rumors as he could. The more confusion and uncertainty surrounding them the better it was for his plans. He would not allow his nephew to stay locked away in his gilded cage any longer. 

He played the role of the senlie oldman just wanting a piece of family for his own, then turned around and winked conspiratorially at some of the generals who had given him their support if he wanted to take the throne. 

Iroh had no taste for the games of court, but for the sake of his nephew he pulled out all the stops. The Great Dragon of the West was seen leaving the palace and meeting with military men all across the Fire Nation in the coming months. What could he be planning? Many wondered, including the Fire Lord himself.

Ozai had eyes and ears in every part of the palace and across the ever expanding Fire Nation. Nothing slipped by him, but his brother wasn’t even _trying_ to cover his tracks. He was preparing for something right out in the open. He never had a stomach for subterfuge unlike his younger brother who excelled at it, but to be so bold as to openly meet openly with some of the retired general’s most loyal followers in the military-- it did not sit well with the Fire Lord. 

It was not something he could continue to allow to happen without knowing _exactly_ what his brother hoped to accomplish. While his brother had never held a desire for the throne that was his right by birth, Ozai could not say for certain that his actions in those weeks were not of a man readying himself for a play for it. 

Two days after Ozai had made up his mind to confront his brother Iroh returned from his latest trip abroad where Ozai’s sources say he was seen meeting with a former captain who was under his command during the siege of Ba Sing Se. Said former captain was a decorated officer until then General Iroh had walked off the battlefield and abandoned the siege leading the promising younger officer to be led astray. He was demoted and removed from his position of command after becoming outspoken in his desire to stop the use of corporal punishment amongst the fire nation military despite being instated as a practice by Fire Lord Sozin himself many years ago.

“You have been a busy bee brother.” Ozai commented as Iroh was brought to the throne room. He flicked his hand out in a dismissive gesture and as one the guards marched out of the throne room leaving the two brothers alone in the massive room. For a moment the only sound was the flickering of the wall of flame between the two brothers before Ozai snuffed it out leaving nothing between the two of them.

They both eyed the other warily, even when they were family they had quickly outgrew one another. They were too different on a fundamental level, Ozai had always seen his older brother as too soft. He never took life as seriously as he should have and Ozai knew that one day his older brother’s way of living would bring him disaster-- but he had never imagined it would bring him here.

At his feet, grovelling, begging and pleading to be allowed to take Ozai’s greatest disappointment off his hands. 

“We both know the boy cannot stay here forever.” Iroh began, his voice grave. “He cannot be your heir and yet his very presence in the capital, in the palace, would undermine his sister’s claim day by day.” 

It went unspoken that _Iroh’s_ presence had also been undermining and breeding doubt since the moment he came back to the caldera. Even if the oldman truly had no desire for the throne as he has claimed countless times, just having a contender with an arguably better stake was enough to sow seeds of doubt and dissent. 

“Let me take the boy, you have no need for him, nor do you even want him.” A fissure of annoyance at his brother’s bold claim crawled along Ozai’s spine. He was right of course, but to just lay it out there without pretty words to soften the blow was unexpected. “He cannot stay here but he cannot leave without his nature being known.”

“So what do you propose brother?”

“You know of my movements around the fire nation do you not?” Ozai bowed his head in agreement, his eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to figure out his brother’s game. “Much like the staff within the west wing I have been securing the most loyal of the Fire Nation to my side.”

“And what use would a _retired_ general have of loyal troops? Aren’t you a little old, and a little plump to relive your glory days?” Ozai mussed cruelly, but his brother did not rise to the bait.

“Those days are long past me dear brother. The cost was too high. No ,I simply wish to live out my days with the last of my family that can stand my presence.” Iroh took a deep breath and Ozai watched as grief aged his brother’s face a decade in a moment. “I could not save Lu Ten.” Iroh admitted with his eyes closed, his face a mask of pain before he reopened his eyes revealing a fire Ozai long thought dead burning within.

“But it is not too late for Zuko. I will not sit idly by and watch another young life snuffed out too soon when I can act. Though his body may be safe his soul will wither and die if he is to remain in this gilded cage.”

“I cannot have an _omega_ prince on the loose, it was the last demand our father made of me before grief took him.” Ozai watched for his brother’s reaction to his words but their father’s hate for omegas, even those of his own blood came as no surprise to his older brother. He simply nodded as if he had known all along, as if he knew more than even that. . .

“I have a ship, and a crew with unquestionable loyalty. Every single one of them owes me a life debt and I have come to collect. There will be not one word breathed of Zuko’s nature outside of the ship, lest it be their last.” The cold words were not said, they were a promise, a vow. Ozai nodded his head in accent, there was no questioning his brother’s conviction with that at least.

“So you’ll just take my troublesome son and sail the seas? How would that look at court? The former crown prince with what they think is the heir to the throne at his side? They would think me a blind fool to allow it.”

“Banish him.” Ozai blinked in surprise at the forcefully uttered words, “He cannot be your heir, he cannot be within the palace and yet those are his rights by birth unless--”

“Unless he is banished and his birth rights are stripped from him.” Ozai finished for his brother. He toyed with his beard as he contemplated the many new possibilities this could open up for him. Azula was the better heir, anyone could see it--but being the second in line would always hang over her head, unless Zuko wasn’t even a player on the board.

“That would ease the transition greatly, but banishment is no small punishment. For the _heir_ to be banished his crime would have to be great indeed. What crime could a 14 year old _boy_ possibly commit to warrant such a harsh, lifelong punishment?”

“Does it matter?” Ozai’s eyes narrowed to slits at the tone of voice. “Would anyone dare to question you? Their Fire Lord? If you say he is banished, then he is banished. It is not their place to question it, merely to obey.” 

A cruel smile twisted its way onto Ozai’s face. He’s right, no one would dare question it. Question him. The only person walking the Earth who would have the spine or audacity to ever question Ozai was kneeling before him at this very moment. 

“This is all very convenient brother so you must forgive me but what is it that you get out of all of this? Do you truly expect me to believe you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“I lost my chance at happiness with Lu Ten, fate seems to have opened a slim window for me to have a piece of that happiness with Zuko in his place. I have lost too much brother, my old heart cannot take another. It is as simple as that.

“You know well that I have never wished to rule, for what imagined nefarius purpose could I want your heir for? If I wanted the crown, if I truly desired it? I would start a bloody civil war that would divide this nation and have brothers at each other’s throats for years to come. I would not take an _omega_ that could never sit atop the throne.

“I may be retired but even a retired general would never make such a foolish move.” Iroh shook his head sadly, “No, I am but a lonely old man who has seen too much bloodshed and suffering. I failed Lu Ten, I would not fail your son. If you have ever felt love in your breast for Zuko, please allow me to take him away from a life that is surely to be full of needless suffering.”

Silence fell between the brothers and remained for long minutes as Ozai contemplated all that his brother had said. His instincts screamed at him that this is too easy, too good to be true, and yet his brother was never the type to play these games. Especially not with how much better Ozai has always been at them, he would know that his younger brother would outmaneuver him with ease if he tried something. 

Ozai dismissed his older brother promising to give the matter much thought before he excused himself to his bed chambers.

This had been weighing heavily on Ozai for some time, the matter of his son. Having him in the palace was unsustainable, always had been. His late father had known it, it was why he demanded the death of his only grandson, but Ozai had sworn to the boy’s mother he would not harm the child in trade for the throne.

Ozai was not a man of many principals but he did not take his promise to Ursa lightly. Though there was no love lost between them she had done her duty giving him the perfect heir, a prodigy not seen in centuries. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain without complaint nor hesitation and so he had upheld his. 

But for how long could he be expected to uphold a fool’s bargain? He had spared her son, but Iroh was right. With every moment the boy was within the palace walls he weakened his sister’s rightful claim to the throne. 

In the dark of night, under the safety of shadows Ozai had allowed himself to think of solutions to that problem. It would be so easy for an accident, a poorly cooked meal, a mislabelled medicine? Human lives are so fragile, it’s almost too easy to snuff them out. His own kind hearted wife was able to snuff out one of the greatest flames of the fire nation with a simple herb.

A soft spoken omega boy’s flame could be snuffed by a stiff breeze by comparison-- and yet Ozai hesitated. He squashed those treacherous thoughts of murder whenever they would arise, but night after night they would return. Each night it took longer and longer to push those thoughts out of his head, he knew that one night he would fail to push them away. It was inevitable.

Just as the death of his first born was inevitable. 

At least that was what he thought until his brother came back into his life. His elder brother’s motivations and mind worked too strangely for Ozai to ever fully work into his plans and as such his elder brother was always acting as the monkey wrench. Always messing up the neat mechanisms and gears that Ozai built around his life to give it order.

Much like his abdication of the throne this particular _interference_ for all appearances would work in Ozai’s favor. An unprecedented solution that only Iroh’s strange mind could have conceived. A mix of genius and desperation.

Days went by without Ozai coming to a decision, it would not do to rush into something without giving it serious thought. Ozai was a man who liked to plan out every major move in his life, but he was not so set in his ways to let an opportunity pass if it were good enough. He had thrown caution to the wind once when his wife had offered him that fateful deal and his every instinct was telling him that this was another he should not let pass. 

He should throw caution to the wind one last time and rush the ticking time bomb he had for a son out of the palace. If he had done as his instincts bade him, he would have had everything he ever wanted. He would have gone down in history as the first of the Great Phoenix Kings, the one who burned the Earth Kingdom to the ground and made way for his daughter to end the line of the Avatar once and for all.

Lucky for us, lucky indeed for the very world that he did not follow his instincts then.

His daughter had still not presented, she had every sign of being one of the strongest alphas in history, but then again with how his son turned out could he really be sure? What if Ursa cursed his line and Azula turned out to be a disappointment like her brother? If he sent away Zuko now it would make dealing with that possibility far more messy than Ozai would like.

No, he could not risk it, not until he was sure.

He didn’t have to wait long, it was only two weeks later that his daughter presented as the powerful alpha everyone knew she would be, but by then unseen spirits had moved fate along another path for his family though he would not know it at the time. 

A grand party was thrown in Azula’s honor, the entire caldera was busy celebrating his daughter as he summoned his brother who bowed lower than any royal should as Ozai gave him the good news. 

Zuko would be his brother’s problem at the end of the week, everything was looking up. Soon all the pieces would fall into place for Ozai to shape the world in the image he saw fit. . .

Which is, of course, when life decided to ruin his neat little plans only two days before his problematic son could be taken off his hands by his brother. The brother that was still a day out from port on the ship meant to rid Ozai of the last two thorns in the form of troublesome family members from his side. But then Ursa's former servant, now head of the west wing and care taker of the omega prince, came rushing into the throne room. It was in that moment that Ozai realized his plans were about to change, and judging by her distressed expression, and not for the better.


	6. Prologue Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This freaking chapter man. Uhg what a struggle to get it where it needed to be. . .right up until I stopped fighting it and just let it happen as I wrote. 
> 
> Alternate chapter title: 
> 
> Iroh and the west wing crew join forces to prevent the progression of plot, local author ignores their efforts pushing on and ends up regretting everything.

# Prologue Part Six

The entire palace was abuzz with excitement as a grand feast was thrown in Azula’s honor and the west wing was no exception--but for entirely different reasons. When Iroh had returned from his audience with the Fire Lord he could not keep the smile off his face, nor could he keep his good news a secret for long.

At first Zuko couldn’t believe his ears, he was going to be allowed to leave? After nearly 3 years of staring at the same walls day in and day out he had come to accept his fate. His world would always be limited to these few rooms and he would never know anyone outside of the handful of servants and guards who worked here so the thought of leaving. . .just kept slipping out of his head. It couldn’t be possible, he hadn’t let himself hope after the second year went by without a visit from his father. 

But his Uncle was not the type to lie. 

Uncle would not be so cruel as to dangle hope in front of him, almost within reach only to rip it away once he dared to grasp it-- but there had to be a catch. Zuko didn’t get things he wanted, not his father’s attention, his mother’s return, or a sister who didn’t giggle while she tried to light him on fire. So what is the price he would have to pay?

But even if he did get out, what would it even be like outside the palace? Zuko could hardly even remember the few times they went out to the beach house on ember island it was so long ago. Would he be allowed to talk to other people again? Even if he was allowed to, would they want to talk to him being able to tell what he was?

But-but what about the family line? He was a walking affront to the natural order, the impossible royal omega. The people couldn’t know about him, it would bring shame upon his family, on his father. So how could he possibly be allowed to leave? It just didn’t make any sense.

“There are ways to hide one’s nature,” Iroh spoke softly once his nephew had run out of air from his stream of rapid fire questions. “They would not pass prolonged, close inspection, but none would be so bold as to get too close to a prince now would they?” Iroh said with a wink relieving some of the stress from Zuko’s shoulders.

Iroh moved about his room humming to himself as he prepared some soothing tea for his nephew, he was going to need it. The boy-- no, he was no longer a boy was he? Iroh mussed to himself watching his nephew sit stiffly with a perfectly straight back as he waited (im)patiently for Iroh to serve their tea. 

The young man sitting before him had a restrained tautness to his body that spoke of the need to move being held in check by the manners taught to him. He was taller now, already nearly as tall as Iroh at 14 and with every sign pointing to another growth spurt on the way. It would not be long at all before Iroh was the one looking up at his nephew instead of the other way around.

By rights Zuko became a man on his 13th birthday, old enough to rule. 

And old enough to fight and die for his country.

Iroh had a distaste for Sozin’s mandate that changed the legal age for conscription. He, himself, was sheltered from being drafted at a young age as the crown prince but when he did end up joining the military of his own will he saw the mandate in action. Boys, many barely old enough to shave, filled the lowest of the ranks. 

They joined of their own volition, but they were too skinny, too small in Iroh’s eyes. Iroh would not come to realize that their “choice” to join wasn’t much of a choice until much later on in life. They were poor, hungry orphans in a nation that was at war with the world. Work was not hard to come by, but the military paid the best-- if you lived past being a green recruit that was. 

He had seen so many little fires snuffed out before their time and while he was a general and knew the choices he made had to be made to save more lives it never stopped hurting when he sent someone off to die. Children. Like his nephew, like his very own son Lu Ten. He would always have to live with the many sins of his past, but if nothing more he would save this one. Zuko would not be another cog in the machine to be ground down.

Zuko would not be a pawn to his country, nor to his family. Iroh would take him off the board. In this game the only way to win was not to play. Iroh knew it was the cowards way out, by birthright he had a responsibility to his nation. To his people. 

There was no question that they were suffering, that the whole world was suffering for this war. The war his grandfather brought to the world a hundred years ago that was still raging with no end in sight. If Iroh were a stronger, better man he would stand up to Ozai. He would take the throne and lead his people away from the horrors of war.

But he was just a tired and selfish old man. 

He cared for people, no matter their station, nation, or nature. He had spent the last few years setting his mistakes to rights as he traveled the world, but the mistakes of his nation? Of his family? They were too grand, too far-reaching, and too complex to solve during his lifetime and he knew it. 

If he had been born knowing what he does now he could have stood a chance, but he was a different person then. Blind and ignorant. Now too old to start correcting the mistakes of his forebears now. 

If he could even beat his brother.

Something Iroh was very much not sure he could do even in his prime. Ozai was born a prodigy whereas Iroh, much like his nephew, was a late bloomer. But where his nephew pushed himself to overcome his disadvantage Iroh had accepted it growing up. He much preferred learning the ways of war and tactics over that of bending himself. What need would he have to be the best firebender when he could command armies of them instead?

There were so many logical and valid reasons for Iroh refusing to take the throne, but they all boiled down to him not having the heart to tear their admittedly broken family up any more than it already was. Instead, Iroh wanted to mend the tears as best he could. It was far too late for there to be anything more than cold animosity between himself and his brother, and Azula was already showing every sign of being her father’s daughter under his tutelage.

That left Zuko, the unwanted son, the shame of the family, the walking personification of treason.

Zuko, the quiet boy who liked turtle ducks, the shy kid who played at being a ninja sneaking around in the dead of night. The lonely boy who would pretend to only _tolerate_ his uncle’s hugs while leaning into the touch.

Iroh could and would make a life for him and his nephew. It would not be perfect, but he liked to think that they could be happy. 

Iroh would not be a good man for abandoning his country to its fate, but as it turns out he would be a very good uncle. The best anyone could ever ask for. All other uncles would be held to his standard and found lacking.

He, of course, would not know that, nor would it have held any bearing on his decisions-- but it was something he would always be remembered for just the same.

******

Once Zuko had come to accept that he really was leaving he doubled down on his training regiment. Waking before the dawn of Agni’s light to train with Du Yi and even Han Cho for a few special classes in thrown weapons. The two guards would trade off training and playing lookout well into midday at their prince’s insistence. Neither of them would admit to tiring more quickly than the 14 year old but they exchanged relieved glances whenever Wan Yu would drag their prince off for lunch using her mothering voice to guilt him into obeying.

The head servant herself had mixed feelings about the young prince leaving. On one hand she knew the boy would be better off outside these walls. He could actually live a life instead of just existing here. Though the boy would spend much of his life at sea at least he would be free.

But if he left she knew that she would never get to see him again. Never get to brush back a stray lock of hair behind his ear, or sneakily watch him play with the turtle ducks at the pond. Her last connection to Ursa would be a world away. Maybe it was fitting, or an act of fate that would make both the mother and the son leave so permanently. 

Maybe it was divine punishment from the spirits for Sozin’s actions that brought imbalance to the world. A curse on the royal line that would drive away all the good from the family until nothing but the seeds of hatred Sozin had sowed were left to bloom. 

Such thoughts were the highest of treason, she would not dare breathe them outloud-- not even to her husband but they were there in her head all the same. She had already lost her best friend to the power games of royalty, and she was about to lose someone she had come to think of as a son. For all that she had already lost and all that she was yet to lose because of the royal family’s thirst for power she did not think it was unreasonable that anger and bitterness birthed such treasonous thoughts to her mind as she brushed Zuko’s hair as he got ready for bed and she counted down the days, the hours she had left with him.

She turned and stood to leave but Zuko reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist as she faced away from him. He pulled lightly and leaned his face against the back of her shirt and just breathed for a moment without saying anything. His warm breath melted the ice that was trying to form around her heart.

She could not fully hate the royal family, not when they gave the world, gave her such a sweet child. She moved to turn so she could return the hug but the arms around her just held on tighter. 

“Miss you.” Was mumbled into her back quietly as if admitting he cared were a thing to be ashamed of. Always trying to be strong, to be aloof and uncaring like his father but when it mattered, when it really mattered? He never failed to let his soft heart show, even if he knew it would cost him. 

It was one of the many reasons Wan Yu had come to care for the boy and love him not as her prince, but for who he was. Who knew what kind of man he could grow up to be, but one thing was for certain:

He would never get the chance to grow if he stayed here.

***

It was four days until Zuko was to leave the west wing behind but first his Uncle had to leave on his own one final time to gather the crew from a neighboring port and ready their ship. The ship that would become Zuko’s new home for the foreseeable future.

Zuko was still struggling to wrap his head around the thought of leaving, if he thought about it too much it would make his head hurt. Sometimes he’d wake up gasping, afraid it was all a dream. That Uncle had never come back from the siege and he was trapped here forever. Alone.

Thankfully the warmth of Agni’s light was quick to burn away his childish fears. He wasn’t alone, hadn’t been for a long time. He had Wan Yu to brush his hair and tell him stories of her younger days, tales of days she spent with his mother if he was lucky. He had Du Yi who taught him how to hold a sword for the first time and was always patient with him while he stumbled through the steps. 

He had Yuntal who was the only servant who actually let him help instead of becoming scandalized by the mere thought of a prince washing his own laundry or anything else normal-non-heirs-to-the-throne things people did. He had Han Cho, who was cold at first, like guards were supposed to be, but slowly warmed up to the prince. 

He even had The Cook. The grizzled old man who never spoke and no one seemed to know his name simply calling him ‘The Cook’. He had a gruesome scar that went from one cheek down halfway through his neck that had scared Zuko at first as a little boy but as the years went by he stopped seeing it. The Cook was always patient and understanding of Zuko, and he always knew exactly what food would soothe Zuko’s soul at any given time with just a look.

He had always been kind to Ursa’s son, just as she had always been soft on him. Even before she had disappeared Zuko would sometimes spend hours down in the kitchens with The Cook watching with interested eyes as food was expertly prepared. Sadly, he never did learn how to cook despite the time spent with one of the best chefs in the fire nation much to The Cook’s regret.

So Zuko had people, good people. And he was going to leave them all behind, that part really sucked. He would miss each and everyone of them, even Chaeng’s father-like disappointing looks. He moped about the halls once he came to the realization he would be leaving everyone behind for about two hours until he got over it.

Forcibly. 

Come to find out it was nearly impossible to mope and feel sorry for yourself when everyone was so damn happy for you. It almost seemed like everyone was going out of their way to accidentally bump into him and then they just had to tell him how excited they were for him. How happy they were he was going to get to travel the world with his uncle and meet new friends.

Zuko wanted to argue that it wouldn’t be that easy, that there would be a catch, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would take their easy smiles away. Besides, deep down, where he hid his dangerous feelings, he held the hope that maybe they were right.

***

“Do-do you think Father will see me?” Zuko asked, his stutter betraying his feelings even as he kept his face carefully blank. “Or at least let me say goodbye to Azula?”

Iroh failed to keep his emotions off his face openly displaying his sorrow. It had been three years without Ozai visiting his son, Iroh held no hope of it happening now. 

“You’re right, that was a stupid question.” Zuko said angrily to the ground as he attempted to glare it into submission. “Why would he want to see _me_ now, he never did Before.”

“Oh Zuko.” He tried to pull his nephew into a comforting hug but the teen shrugged out of his grip.

“It’s fine. I know better, it was- it was just a momentary lapse in judgement. I know I’m already getting more than I deserve.” Zuko turned to look at Iroh, his eyes a messy mixture of hurt and caring when he spoke next. “You’ve done so much for me when no one else would, I don’t deserve you either, but I’ll do everything to make sure you will not regret this.” 

He said ‘no one else’ but Iroh heard the word ‘father’ his nephew meant but could not bring himself to say. 

“I am the one that does not deserve you, my nephew.” Iroh raised his hand when Zuko’s mouth opened up to argue. “I have done a great many things I am not proud of, made mistakes and hurt many people who should not have been hurt. But one thing I can say with certainty is that you will not be one of those mistakes Prince Zuko. I could never regret one moment I have with you, only that I had not come sooner so that I could have more.”

Zuko didn’t fight the next hug, he melted into it.

***

All too soon, or not fast enough depending upon who you ask, Iroh was leaving for the final preparations which left the west wing staff to deal with a young, teenage prince that didn’t know what to do with himself. Nervous energy had him bouncing from one thing to another from before the break of dawn until well after Agni had left the sky.

The guards who had already doubled down on lessons were at a loss of how to exhaust the worried/excited prince so that he could at least get some rest before leaving on his journey. That was until Han Cho made the off hand comment that they should just do both their training exercises at once to get them out of the way. This was said within earshot of said prince who took the offhand comment like it was an offer and neither of his guards had it in them to correct his mistaken assumption. Not with how excited he was.

Which led to the single most nerve wracking and intense two hours in their lives. As it turns out attacking the crown prince, a 14 year old that they had both come to ~~love~~ like while simultaneously trying to predict one another’s movements as to not injure the prince or themselves was more difficult than either had imagined.

They had been trained extensively in the art of combat and excelled, that was why they were palace guards after all, but in all their years of sparing and practice the stakes of a mistake were never higher. Never before had they such an unpredictable, and fearless spar partner. At the end of the two hour session all parties were left panting, Du Yi leaned heavily against a wall, Han Cho had slid down to sit and their prince, their precious prince was standing there with a twinkle in his eye.

Like he hadn’t just nearly died a dozen times dodging out of the way from one hit and nearly into another. In fact he was smiling. Like it was fun. As if he enjoyed all the near death experiences. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked over his shoulder to which Du Yi replied with a strangled sound that the young prince took as a yes. “Great!” He shouted with a bright smile before he walked away to hopefully go take a nap. Du Yi sure could use one right about now.

Du Yi slid the rest the way down the wall as the will to live left him, Han Cho had his head on his knees and his hands fisted in his hair.

“I don’t care if he is the prince, if he thinks we’re doing that again _ever_ I’ll hog tie him myself until Prince Iroh gets back.” Du Yi announced to the heavens Han Cho agreed with a thump of his head against the wall behind him. Du Yi stopped to rub his fingers around his goatee in thought.

“He was actually pretty good though.” Han Cho did not agree, Du Yi could tell by the way the man threw one of his daggers to pin Du Yi’s cloak to the ground. Which, all in all, was fairly civil considering.

The next day when Zuko showed up for practice Han Cho, in a rare show of foresight, was able to steer the young prince away from another group practice that was far too likely to end with the boy somehow maimed and the two of them suffering a fate worse than death at the hands of the Great Dragon of the West. 

“You need to learn to fight on the water if you are going to be at sea.” The way Zuko’s eyes went round meant he hadn’t even considered it before that very moment.

That next session left all of them soaking wet from fighting on makeshift boards in the bathing area. It started out as training but somehow devolved into a game of trying to trip one another so that they fell in, a game that was cut short by a mighty bellow of rage from one Wan Yu.

Du Yi regretted nothing.

***

On the last day before his Uncle returned and they would leave together Zuko woke up feeling _off_. He didn’t exactly feel sick, and he got a solid 6 hours of sleep the night before but something just didn’t feel right. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, a little too warm, and antsy. As he went through his morning katas he found his center again but meditation(which was something he was sure he would always be terrible at) was a lost cause.

His mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t focus long enough to come close clearing his mind. He stood shaking his head, probably just nerves from D day being so close, he told himself as he left to eat breakfast. The carefully prepared food might as well have been sand in his mouth for all that he could taste. He pushed the food around on his plate, he knew that he should eat but he wasn’t hungry.

That in itself wasn’t unusual, he frequently got into moods where he had no desire to eat. Where the fire in his veins demanded he move, move, move instead of sit and eat. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried about tomorrow, everytime he wasn’t distracting himself with training his mind was racing a mile a minute playing out untold scenarios that could go wrong. Just the other day The Cook had commented with one of his looks to say he saw how little Zuko was eating recently and he didn’t approve but not enough to force the issue(Zuko had eaten an extra roll out of guilt anyway).

Zuko promised himself he would eat and sleep better once he’s no longer stuck waiting and not knowing. Once something finally happened one way or another. 

That would prove to be a lie, a promise he could not hope to keep.

It wasn’t until he stumbled and fell to his knees during his training with Du Yi that Zuko realized what he had been feeling all morning might be more than just nerves. It was only by the grace of Du Yi’s training and lightning fast reflexes that kept his prince from being nicked by a move he should have easily deflected. 

“Prince Zuko!” Du Yi shouted in worry, the prince shook his head swaying slightly as he got back to his feet. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t. But even he knows that’s what you’re supposed to say when someone asks that question. “Just a little lightheaded, and hot.” 

Han Cho and Du Yi exchanged a look over their prince’s head. Firebenders don’t just get hot, especially not one with Zuko’s training, they have better control than that.

“Perhaps you should see Qing Lei just to be safe.” It spoke volumes to how the young prince was feeling when he didn’t argue. He just nodded his head replacing his practice swords on the rack before forming the flame and offering them a bow.

“Forgive me for cutting our lesson short.” As if he had dishonored them by being unwell. As if his lessons were more important than his health. Han Cho could recall noticing the burns the boy would come back with after firebending practice with his tutors (and his father) so maybe he had reason to think that way. 

But not with them. Never with them. Bruises are unavoidable during training but the point is to avoid them not create them.

“We were thinking of taking a break anyway,” Du Yi interjected with a conspiratory smile, “It is our last full day to bask in your presence Prince Zuko. It would be a waste to spend our time sparing don’t you think?” Du Yi threw his arm over Han Cho’s stiff shoulders.

“Besides we got a little something we need to do that would be a lot easier without a certain prince under foot.” He winked at the prince whose eyes widened and cheeks darkened. “So why don’t you go visit Qing Lei so we can get to work on that surprise?”

“O-okay.” Zuko all but fled at that point. For being a spoiled prince he was surprisingly awful at handling when someone thought he was worth giving a gift to. Or when receiving a compliment. Or basically anytime anyone expressed any sort of care for him. 

Du Yi thought that was pretty awful, but at least it meant his surprise would be a big hit. Might even get him one of the increasingly rare surprise attack hugs from said prince.

Not that Du Yi wanted one or anything.

***

Wan Yu was busy folding the laundry when Zuko found her, she turned, surprised to see him back early from practice with Han Cho and Du Yi. The closer he got the more her forehead creased. He was even more pale than normal, which made the flush of his cheeks really stand out and he was sweating.

He was sweating.

After barely a half hour of training. Something was wrong, it normally took a full hour for the tiniest of sweat beads to make an appearance and yet here he was walking up looking as if he had run laps around the caldera. It had been many months since the last time Zuko had gotten sick, and not once since he learned control over his inner flame has he run a fever.

Wan Yu had a sinking feeling she knew just what this was. She ushered the boy into his room and had him take off his damp shirt to cool off and the moment there was no longer fabric to block it his scent hit her.

As a beta she could not boast the keen sense of smell an alpha or an omega would have but she knew Zuko’s soft scent since he first presented. It was a sweet, light smell. Like fire lilies blooming around a lake, but now it was far stronger. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed it sooner but all royal outfits were woven with fabric to block the majority of one’s scent, but they could only do so much when it became one’s time.

“Why do I feel so strange?” Zuko asked her with a frown, there was a light haze clouding his eyes already and his eyes kept slipping away to flirt about the room at random. His pupils were too big and his breath unsteady. 

“It’s going to be okay Zuko, everything is going to be fine.” She assured him, she was there through most of his mother’s heats and could be there for him. Once Ozai had the heir he always wanted he left Ursa to manage her own heats, in part because he had no desire to risk more children and part out of respect to his wife’s wishes. 

Heats were a vulnerable time for an omega, and neither of them had hidden that their marriage was a loveless one so once her duty was done to him all she wanted was to be taken care of by someone she trusted and cared for. Oftentimes that responsibility fell onto family when the omega is still young, or in cases of nobles, trusted servants like Wan Yu.

She could be there for Zuko, but for his first? It should be family, it was after all a very scary time for them. The bonds of family would be key in soothing his worries and while she had formed a familial bond with the boy it wasn’t nearly as strong as a blood tie would be. 

She silently cursed Iroh for his bad timing. He should be the one here for Zuko, she would do what she could for him while he was away. She brushed sweat damp hair from Zuko’s forehead and placed a gentle kiss on the uncovered skin.

“I will get Qing Lei, it won’t be more than a moment.” He nodded with a frown but let her go. She didn’t quite run to the medical wing, but it was a close thing. Qing Lei, despite pushing 80 at that point, kept up with her as they made their way back to the west wing.

The white haired man hmm’d to himself while he checked over the young prince. Zuko held himself deathly still as he was being examined. He didn’t like the serious looks on either of the two adults’ faces. His mind raced in circles wondering what was wrong, but he held his tongue knowing better than to try and get anything out of the tight lipped doctor before he was ready.

“This might be a little uncomfortable.” Qing Lei said in warning a split second before he dug his thumb into Zuko’s right shoulder hitting his glands with unerring accuracy. A shot of intense feeling ripped a sound from Zuko’s throat he had never heard himself make before. It wasn’t entirely pain, but neither was it pleasant. It was hard to describe beyond being Too Much.

“Hmm” Qing Lei said again much to the teen’s annoyance before standing and wiping his hands off with a towel from his pocket. “Everything seems to be progressing normally for his first heat.” 

Heat.

He’s in heat. 

Oh Agni, how could he forget that heats were something he was going to have to deal with?! His heart rate kicked up as he fisted the bed sheets at his sides. What was going to happen? They never taught him that when he learned of natures as it was always assumed he would be an alpha, and it had slipped Uncle’s mind to educate him. 

His breaths came faster and more uneven as panic began to set in. The adults shared a look over his head. The white haired man motioned with his head at the prince and then the door. Wan Yu bowed her head as the old doctor stood and left the room.

“I will be right back my prince, Han Cho is already outside the door to keep watch. You are safe, please do not worry my little turtle duck.” The pet name had the desired effect washing away his fears to be replaced with embarrassment and a hint of care. As if to spite her childish pet name he focused on his breathing exercises like Uncle had taught him to regain control over himself. He would not panic like a _child_ , he could control himself.

Wan Yu smiled kindly down at him as she watched his breaths even out for a moment before she bowed and took her leave. Qing Lei was waiting outside the room for her.

“We must inform the fire lord.” It was how things were done, it would be improper to have an outsider present for an omega’s heat except for dire circumstances. Wan Yu’s stomach went cold, but how would he take the news of his unwanted omega son going into heat just one day before he was to be banished?

Not once did he visit in three years and he would send the boy off to live with his uncle without a second thought. He clearly held no love for the boy, not since his nature became known, and if Wan Yu were being honest-- it was clear what little love Ozai was capable of had died the moment he realized his son would not be a great bender like himself. 

But then again he was never cruel to Ursa during her time. She had said he did his duty to care for her as any alpha should even if there was no love between them. Perhaps she has been too hard on her fire lord, surely the familial bonds he has with his son, though weak, would drive him to care for him in his time of need. 

“I will inform the fire lord.” She announced stiffly receiving a bow of understanding from Qing Lei as she shouldered the responsibility. She then turned to Han Cho, “Keep him safe.” She knew she didn’t need to say it, but she couldn’t help it.

Han Cho saluted, taking no offense at her command. He watched as her back retreated down the hall as she made her way out of the west wing. Qing Lei murmured that he would inspect the west wing’s medical dorm while he was here before he too walked away at a much more sedate pace than when he had arrived. 

That left Han Cho alone to guard the young prince as Du Yi had wasted no time in leaving the palace grounds to ready their surprise present for the boy. 

The vast majority of his job was waiting and he was good at it. A professional even. Long ago he acclimated to spending the better part of his days keeping watch over nothing, and normally it would not bother him in the slightest, but he keenly felt every second that ticked by waiting for Wan Yu’s return.

Uncertain if she would be alone bringing further disappointment to the boy or if the fire lord would come in her stead to care for the son he has kept locked away like a dirty secret for over three years.

Han Cho desperately wanted for his fire lord to come and care for his son. It would be the right thing to do, any father would care for their child in their time of need would they not? But another part of his mind feared the fire lord would not come, even now. Han Cho refused to think about what kind of person, what kind of father that would make his fire lord if he did not show up.

The minutes ticked by without event until far away shouts and the unmistakable stomping of armored boots could be heard down the hallway. After only a minute the dull thud of marching faded into the distance leaving the sounds of only two pairs of armoured boots and the muffled steps of two others. 

The door to the west wing was opened by the two guards revealing the imposing figure of their fire lord as he swept into the hallway. The guards stayed at the entryway reclosing the doors behind their fire lord but not before Han Cho caught a glimpse of Wan Yu who was fisting the ends of her apron in her hands. They made eye contact just as the doors swung shut, her worried yet hopeful gaze meeting his matching one.

Han Cho resisted the urge to fidget as his fire lord approached. It was far from the first time he had been in his presence, but it had been three long years since he had seen the man with any regularity. Physically he looked no different from how he had the last time Han Cho had seen him. 

Confident stride, an air of untouchability, and the calm certainty that he was above everyone. Which, to be fair, he was without question the most powerful man in the world and the most powerful fire bender in the fire nation on top of that. He had every right to be dismissive to those below him, but perhaps Han Cho had spent too long in the west wing. 

Too long with his son, because only by the grace of his helmet was he able to hide the look of distaste that twisted his lips at the sight of the man walking-- no sweeping towards him. It was hard to respect a man who would willingly imprison their own flesh and blood for something beyond their control. But maybe he was being too hard on his fire lord.

He had shown up now after all. Perhaps, at the end of things, he would set things right with his son. Or at the very least give him one last good memory to cherish during his exile.

“No one is to enter unless I personally order it.” His fire lord commanded.

“Sir.” 

It would be the last order Ozai would ever give him, and obeying this one order would haunt him for years to come.

Han Cho opened the door to Zuko’s room for the fire lord to walk in. He was able to see the way his prince’s eyes lit up in surprise and joy at seeing his father.

“You came!” Zuko’s excited voice called out as Han Cho shut the door, muffling whatever would be said next thanks to the sound and scent dampening of all rooms in the palace. Han Cho should have felt relieved that the fire lord was taking care of his son, that at least Zuko’s last memory of his father would be a good one instead of the years spent locked away.

It should be a good thing right? So why did the creeping sense of unease keep growing and gnawing on his mind? He hadn’t been in the palace as long as some like Wan Yu or Qing Lei, but he had been around long enough to get a measure of his fire lord. He was not known for being a man who _cared_ , and maybe even now he didn’t care. This was him doing his duty as a father and nothing more.

Han Cho shook off such thoughts. The why’s were unimportant, what mattered was that he was here for Zuko now. It was enough. It had to be.

A muffled sound from within the room surprised the guard, it had to have been a shout to be heard through the soundproofing. Adrenaline spiked in his veins at the tone. He had never heard his young prince sound so afraid. Whatever his father may or may not have said was too quiet to be heard through the door but Zuko’s muffled sounds of distress quieted down too low for him to make out. 

At least until the screaming started. Han Cho flinched hard as a piercing cry of pain assaulted his ears. He turned to stare at the closed door in shock, this can’t be happening. One heartbeat and then two and yet he still had not awakened from this nightmare. On and on the scream went, torn from the depths of agony Han Cho could not comprehend. He had seen people die, watched as Agni’s light faded from their eyes but he had never seen a violent death, but even his worst nightmares could not have prepared him for the reality of listening t-t-to _that_.

After an age, a lifetime, the scream died out. Han Cho’s heart went cold in his chest fearing the worst. Fearing that it wasn’t the only thing that died. His body seized with the indecision wanting desperately to disobey his fire lord and save the young prince(while worrying it was already too late) and the ingrained, trained need to follow his orders. His hand reached out on its own for the door but stopped inches away from touching.

His hand shook, as did his faith, his very understanding of the world and his place in it. Terror gripped him tight, scarcely letting him breathe. He needed to do something! He couldn’t just let--

But he could not force his hand to close the last inch of distance. If he opened the door his fears would become reality. A reality he could not, at that moment, face. His thoughts swirled and cycled chasing themselves endlessly and getting nowhere until another scream tore through the palace.

It lasted but a fraction of the time as the first, cutting off suddenly instead of sputtering out as he ran out of breath like the last. Han Cho blinked at the door for one, two, three seconds before he made up his mind. The leather of his glove creaked as his hand curled into a fist born of determination before reopening but before his hand could touch the door it swung open.

Ozai stood before him, face pale and the whites of his eyes too big. That was the first time Han Cho had ever looked into the other man’s eyes directly instead of respectful looking down as was expected. He could see an echo of horror and fear flickering in those golden eyes for a moment, just one single moment before Ozai clamped down and all emotion slipped off his face.

“Don’t let him die.” It was an order said as if it would be an _inconvenience_ for his son to die. As if it would be his son’s fault, his weak nature that would be his death-- not his own hand. Han Cho was too stunned to answer, but Ozai turned away without another word and left. 

Just left. 

As if he didn’t--

Han Cho turned back to look in the room and was hit with the smell. His first, horrible thought was that it smelled good, like a BBQ. The air was filled with the strong smell of cooked meat. His helmet was off and he was on his knees purging his stomach in the next moment. In-between gags there was a shuffle of footsteps and the swishing of a robe passing by him to enter the room as Qing Lei rushed to the prince’s bed. 

His mouth was moving but Han Cho couldn’t understand it, couldn’t hear it passed the endless loop of his prince’s cries that was playing in his head. A rough slap against his cheek broke through to him. He looked up into Qing Lei’s understanding and sorrowful eyes.

“Get my assistants. All of them.” His voice was steady and Han Cho latched onto it. “And no one else. Understood?” Han Cho nodded, wiping at his mouth daring one last look at the small, too still body laying on the bed before he grabbed his helmet and turned away. 

His first step was shaky, his knees threatening to give once more but the next was stronger as was the one after that. Faster he walked until he could jog and then full on running down the hall to the door. He pushed through the doors, ignored Wan Yu’s pleading and sprinted the entire way to the medical wing praying he wasn’t too late.

***

There was a slight tremor in Ozai’s hands as he walked to his room, it was the only thing that betrayed what he had just done. His loss of control.

He would tell himself it had to be done, that what he did was for Zuko’s own good. He would spend hours and days justifying his actions to himself--never to anyone else because even in this? None dared question him. 

He couldn’t just let an omega with his blood run free. As today proved with the sickeningly sweet and _weak_ scent of an omega premiating and tainting the halls of his palace. Even if they were careful, even if his brother had the sworn loyalty of that crew it meant nothing. Not when his nature could betray him, betray them all, at any time and the world would know that the fire nation line was weak.

“It’s for your own good.” He had told Zuko as he placed his hand on his shoulder directly over the glands before calling heat to his hand.

But the truth was that he couldn’t stand the smell. It was the smell of subservience, weakness, and shame. His blood alone should have made the smell an impossibility, he was of Sozin’s line! Even polluted with his mother’s weakness Ozai’s stronger blood should have won out. 

The scent was proof of a weakness in Ozai himself, and he would not stand for it. It was easy to ignore when he had banished the child to these halls. Out of sight, out of mind as they say. But to have it shoved in his face? To fill his every sense with the fact that he fathered an _omega_ was too much.

And so he burned away the smell. Oh how Zuko had screamed and cried, couldn’t he see his father was doing him a favor? He begged and pleaded with his father but it only served to make him angrier.

A prince does not beg. He does not cry, nor does he plead. Especially not this one.

Seeing Zuko, who had always been a spitting image of himself, making such faces and _crying_ twisted something in Ozai. As he looked down at his son he could easily see how that face would one day be a mirror of his own and to see it begging? Unacceptable.

He had never let himself cry, never succumbed to the weaker emotions of those who were not meant for rule. Like his father before him, Ozai kept himself above it all--even if he was not the favored son he always took pride in that. He was not just the better bender but stronger and tougher inside as well.

Now he was face to face with what he would have looked like if he had given in. If he had been weak and he hated it. It filled him with disgust to see tears streaming down that face, it boiled the blood in his veins to see him look so weak. To know that his face could even make such an expression felt like blasphemy. It made Ozai weak by association and he could not have that.

It was without conscious thought that he burnt away the offending scene. He just couldn’t stand to look at it anymore and so he made it go away. If he had thought about doing it consciously he could have taken more care, as he did with the shoulder. 

Not burned as hot. Not called the flame to his hand.

It wasn’t until he pulled his hand back and saw the smoldering wreck that was once an ear that Ozai realized what he had done. He had stumbled back and for a few brief moments he let what he had done wash over him. Horror and guilt surged up for once in his rotten life, but as soon as he turned back and caught sight of the guard he squashed it back down, never to be seen again. 

He was the fire lord and he could do no wrong. Any decision he made was by default the right one blessed as he was by Agni. Regret was for the peasants and savages. He had a problem and he fixed it. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

***

Iroh received a summons from the fire lord the moment the Wani docked into port. He was escorted by no less than five imperial benders, of which all were in the top 10 strongest in the palace. It was almost a compliment coming from his brother that he thought he would need so many imperial benders for one washed up old man.

This could be taken at face value, perhaps his brother meant to have a honor guard to escort his unwanted relatives safely through the caldera. Perhaps they are meant as a show of faith between the brothers.

Or more likely something awful had once again happened in his absence and they are here to make sure the once Great Dragon of the West behaves. Whatever it was he only needed to suffer through it for the day then he could leave the caldera and its games for good. Iroh had made a vow to take Zuko from this place, and he intended to keep it even if he had to steal the boy right out from under his brother’s nose in the middle of the night.

As he was led into the throne room his ‘escort’ of guards did not leave as is customary when the two brothers have conversed in the past. It did not bode well for what was to come. What have you done this time brother? Iroh thought to himself, bowing as was proper for someone meeting with the fire lord rather than with a brother.

A scroll thumped down on the ground next to where Iroh had prostrated himself, he took that as his fire lord’s leave to rise. His back creaked as he straightened up, scroll in hand. He glanced up at his brother but it seemed his brother was feeling dramatic today and kept the flames high between them blocking his view. 

Old hands slowly unrolled the scroll and his keen eyes flickered down and across as he read the official proclamation. It seems that they would both be stripped of their titles and banished; Zuko for undisclosed reasons and Iroh for his abandonment of the siege of Ba Sing Se. This should have come as no surprise to the elder brother, it would, after all, be foolish to let a dragon wander without first taking its claws and dosing its flame. 

As per ancient tradition any banishment of one who was in line of succession they were to be given a quest fitting of their crimes. If they could complete the quest their banishment would be lifted and their titles restored. 

“The Avatar? Really?” Iroh wondered out loud to himself rubbing at his chin. That was very clever of his brother. Never before has there been an omega prince, and no has seen even a single air bender since Sozin’s time so maybe it was fitting in a way. This was one quest not even the entire might of the fire nation could complete, let alone an old man and an omega child. 

A life-long banishment indeed.

“You will be gone before Agni’s next light.” Ozai announced, Iroh tipped his head in acknowledgement, he had no desire to stay past his welcome. 

“As you will it.” Iroh formed the flame and turned to take his leave and just as he was leaving the chambers his brother’s voice called out.

“You may not understand it now, but what I did? It was for the best, and some day I am sure you will come to see it that way.” Iroh did not like the sound of that. Not one bit. His pace quickened as he was filled with the need to see his nephew. 

His ‘escort’ did not leave his side like he expected them to once he had finished his audience with his brother. 

What could his brother have possibly done to warrant such paranoia? Or was this part of the show? He was to be named traitor and dishonored come morning, perhaps their presence was to sell the story.

At least that is what he hoped, but he feared the worst when every person he passed by in the palace halls were silent. Not a single word was muttered in his presence since he arrived and while the staff were taught to avert their eyes out of respect even the nobles he passed had their eyes down cast as well. 

It almost seemed as if Ozai had let slip the news of Iroh’s shameful banishment as one last thing to shame him. But if that were true why weren’t they walking by with their head held high and whispering cruelly? Something was very wrong.

The feeling of wrongness increased with every step he took towards the west wing. There were triple the guards posted at the entrance none of which were familiar faces in the rotation that usually guarded the entrance. Iroh’s back straightened fractionally as he readied himself to face whatever had come to pass in his absence. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

Nothing could have kept his knees from going weak at the sight of the bandaged figure laying in the bed so still. An unnatural silence in the room, as if the very world was holding its breath along with Iroh as he held vigil over the boy. Iroh needed to know why this happened, but he could not bring himself to break the silence as he watched the uneven rise and fall of his nephew’s chest.

Qing Lei came and went checking up on Zuko many times during Iroh’s vigil. The old doctor’s eyes flicked up at Iroh but he didn’t say a word. They were both too old for empty reassurances and hopeful lies, it did not become them.

It wasn’t until the third hour of his vigil that his beloved nephew stirred for the first time. His brow(the only one he had left) furrowed and his fingers twitched once, twice in Iroh’s hand before stilling once more. 

The feeling of Zuko’s fingers gripping his own, though brief, was the best thing Iroh had ever felt. There was yet the spark of life, of fire in the boy. He would pull through.

He let out a breath and his shoulder sagged in relief. As gentle as a mother with a newborn Iroh leaned over and pressed his lips against the back of Zuko’s hand and prayed to Agni begging the great spirit to not let his nephew’s flame go out.

The next time Qing Lei checked on Zuko Iroh gave him a look to which the old man nodded once before stepping out of the room. 

Every last drop of color left Iroh’s face as the wizened doctor detailed the known extent of his nephew’s injuries. Qing Lei informed him that from what he could observe the young prince should pull through, but he had never treated anyone who was hurt in such a way. For someone to have maliciously targeted the boy’s glands when he was at his most vulnerable? There was no telling what far reaching consequences that act would have on the growing boy.

“He might live the night only to wither and die with his nature being burnt out of him.” The words were said factually, clinically. Devoid of all emotion but his eyes were full of sorrow and regret as he bluntly gave his medical opinion.

Iroh thanked him for his honesty, voice equally devoid of emotion. He could not let himself feel this- not yet. 

“How soon can he be moved?” Iroh asked knowing full well they _shouldn’t_ move him at all but time was not a luxury they had.

“A few more hours to make sure the worst of the shock has passed.” Qing Lei answered, “If he makes it til dusk without incident it will be as safe as it will ever be to move him.” 

Iroh nodded reworking his plans in his head. He would not let the boy stay a minute longer than he had to in this cursed place. 

“You will need a doctor to care for him on the ship. I am needed here, but I have a daughter.” Qing Lei gestured with his hands, “You will find no finer doctor in the caldera, nor any as loyal as she has not yet sworn her oath.”

Royal doctors were sworn in to their lords to obey and care for them. Nothing could make them break their oaths of service to their lords. Iroh offered Qing Lei a low bow in respect for the gift he was giving to them. His own oaths would prevent him from betraying his fire lord but his daughter would be under no such constraints.

Zuko’s fire proved strong and he had no incidents as Agni left the sky. Under the cover of darkness a small procession made its way through the caldera unmolested, unnoticed. Iroh had sent a hawk ahead to warn Jee and the crew of their sooner-than-planned arrival.

***

The Wani’s flags fluttering in the wind was the only sound as the procession came to a halt in front of the dock. The crew had taken the order for a stealth disembarkament to heart and not one flame could be seen on the ship casting it in dark shadows. Iroh could just make out the outline of the crew in full armor at various strategic positions on the ship and around the dock.

One such outline approached the procession; his face was concealed by darkness but Iroh would recognize those sideburns(even just their outline) anywhere.

“Sir.” Lieutenant Jee formed the flame, greeting his old commander, and eyeing the procession with curiosity and a healthy dash of dread. The hawk was less than informative, but the lieutenant had spent long enough in the military to know how to read between the lines. To see the hidden dangers with every word that was left out. 

“Lieutenant.” Iroh replied tilting his head in acknowledgement before motioning for two of the people in the procession to step up. “We will have two additional crew members. Jun, a doctor and The Cook.” Both bowed to Jee before moving back to the palanquin overseeing the servants who lifted and moved it with a care Jee had never seen before. 

It hit Jee in that moment that General Iroh had not arrived in the palanquin, and the bearers were moving to take it up and onto the Wani. A sinking feeling of dread pooled in his stomach. When his gaze turned back to the general he wore a kind but sad expression on his face but didn’t move to answer the questions that were written all over Jee’s face. He glanced once to what Jee had assumed were honor guard then back to the Wani and at once Jee understood.

He would get no answers while they remained docked and under observation. Beyond the palanquin and its mysterious occupant Iroh had brought nothing more than a few bags that were already loaded on the Wani. Being the last to board, Jee signaled for the crew to cast off as soon as his boots hit the deck.

As soon as they made it out of the bay waters and into the deep sea Jee turned over command to his second before seeking out his general. It was not hard to figure out that the general would be in the room he had ordered reserved for an ‘honored guest’ when he had first recruited Jee for this _unusual_ mission. The door was ajar and Jee could just make out some quiet humming coming from the room to the tune of a nursery song.

Light footed he approached the room but he could not stop the sharp intake of breath at **who** it was in the bed. Nor could he prevent a momentary loss of control over his inner flame that flared a lantern in the corridor as he saw just a glimpse of the condition the _child_ was in. The general continued his humming as if he did not notice Jee’s arrival as he gently adjusted the sheets around the small form in the bed.

Jee felt rooted to the spot, stunned. Someone attacked the crown prince. Someone burned the crown prince, he would know the smell of burn cream anywhere. 

The cloak and dagger meeting, the escort, the peculiar recruitment. It all made sense. Intelligence must have caught wind of an assassination attempt on the heir to the throne. Why else would the general come out of retirement if not to protect his family? 

The lieutenant felt the sting of failure, judging by the freshness of the bandages the intel had clearly come too late. He turned on his heel and beat a hasty retreat seeking out his crew. He didn’t know what to tell them, he didn’t know the whole story but he could at least spare General Iroh having to deal with shocked subordinates. 

By the end of the night the crew had gained a deathly calm, the kind of calm before a storm. They didn’t know who had gone after their prince, but they would make sure they wouldn’t get a second chance. Jee, along with the rest of his crew, made a vow that night to keep their prince safe. . .

And if any of them ever got the chance: To seek vengeance upon those who had hurt their prince, their General’s beloved nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . .and that's the end of the prologue. Sorry.
> 
> I will be working on the next installment after a quick break as this chapter was brutal to write. Turns out, despite being an angsty writer, I absolutely dislike hurting Zuko any more than cannon already has. Shame.
> 
> Also to the two of you I told I would get this posted by the end of the day...which turned into a week: My bad. xD Should have known better than that. <3 <3 <3
> 
> (Also this prologue was a two sentence blimp on my story outline...how did it come to this? ha!)


End file.
